Silhouette
by c-bellz
Summary: Ryan Moore has had to deal with a lot during her 16 years on Earth. With her best friend now dead, parents who've never accepted her , and a recent diagnosis of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, moving to Beacon Hills for a fresh start would seem like the best thing Ryan could hope for. But Beacon Hills has some other plans for her. Isaac/OC
1. Prologue

Get up.

GEt up gEt up gET Up gET up GET uP Get UP geT UP geT Up GeT uP gEt Up gET UP Get uP gET Up

GET UP.

The first thing I notice is the feel of the rough Earth pressed against my cheek. The second is that I appear to be lying in the middle of World War III. Fire rains down, and I push myself to my feet. I see the words etched into the air around me, circling me like moths to a flame. The embers glow blood red, burning bright right before dying out. That's how most things happen in life. As soon as you start to burn brightest, your flame is snuffed out.

As soon as the words fall around me, crashing to the ground silently, smoke rising from the ashes, I am free from my cage. I take a tentative step forward, feeling the gravel crunch beneath my feet. I'm surrounded by trees, most of them cut down, the ruins of what they once were up in flames.

I see something move out of the corner of my eye, and I spin on my heels. There's a withered up lake a few yards from where I stand. At one point I'm sure it was a beautiful place, abundant with life. But now its waters are black and murky, and it leaves the stones encircling it's perimeter a putrid greenish-black color.

Lying on these stones is where I see her. Her body is motionless, lying there like a ragdoll that's been thrown aside and abandoned for years. She doesn't start moving until I break into a sprint, desperate to get to her. She begins convulsing, her limbs moving in such unnatural motions that it takes everything I have in me to keep pursuing her, though every instinct is telling me to flee.

When I finally reach her, I pull her into me, my hand rubbing quick and soothing circles over her back, as if that might somehow breathe life back into her. Her body feels broken, her dark brown hair hangs over her face like damp seaweed, and her skin looks as if it's about to all peel off. She looks up at me with black eyes; her usual green iris's consumed by her pupils. She opens her mouth but the only sound I hear is a dripping sound. Blood trickles from her lips down onto my leg, and though her mouth no longer moves, I hear her voice.

_Run._

_Run to where they will not find you._

_Because if they find you, _

_You're dead._

I bite down my scream and plead with her to explain, to breathe, to live. But she just hisses as more blood spills from her mouth. With one final convulsion she rises into the air, despite my feeble attempt to hold onto her, and the lake consumes her whole.

Then the screaming starts.

Violent shrieks, the kind that you find in horror movies. I clamp both hands firmly over my ears, the sheer volume of it all pushing me to the ground. Through it all, I can still hear her voice.

_Run. Run. Run._

Instead, I add to the chaos erupting before me.

I scream.

_Monster, monster  
Disappear  
Monster, monster  
Feeds on fear  
Monster, monster  
Shot you dead  
Monster, monster  
In my head_


	2. Crazy Is As Crazy Does

My ears were still ringing when I woke up. I don't think I screamed out loud this time though, so I'd say that's an improvement. The thing about being crazy, is that you can't let anyone else find out that you're crazy. My parents don't like it when I refer to myself as crazy, but when it all comes down to it, that's what I am. That's why I could start my own pharmacy with all of the meds they have me on. I don't tell them that the drugs don't work. I don't tell them that I hide the pills under my tongue and spit them out when I go to the bathroom, but then again why would I? They'd probably just prescribe me more pills.  
You see that's their solution. Drugs and pills. Hallucinations? Here have some more antipsychotics. Feeling particularly anxious? 50 mg of Zoloft. Depressed? 30 mg of Prozac. Nightmares still persisting? Take some more Prazosin. They think they can just inject you with their drugs and then you're good as new, like a car with broken parts. Take it to the shop and fix it right up. But I am not a car. And you can't fix what started off broken.

I sat up, only realizing then that not only had I slept in the same clothes from the night before, but I had slept upside down in my bed. My feet curled up under my pillow, as I ran my hands over my legs, smoothing out my jeans. A dark red splotch on my calf caught my attention, as images from my nightmare came rushing back to me. The blood dripping from that girl's mouth. The girl, so mangled she was almost unrecognizable to me. Almost, but not quite.

That's how she always looks whenever she appears in my nightmares. But I guess that's just what happens when you see your best friend's dead body. That is why we moved, after all. To "escape the bad memories". But they could move me to the other side of the world, and I would never escape the bad memories. They've burned themselves into my mind forever, etched on the backs of my eyelids. I shook my head, as if to rid my mind of its current train of thought, before standing up and walking to the bathroom. My hands ran over the cool metal of the shower faucet, turning them on and letting the steam fill up the bathroom. I stripped my clothes off, leaving them in a pile on the floor before getting in and letting the warm water wash over my face.  
A loud knock on the door made me jump back, knocking over the entire rack of shampoos and conditioners.

"Everything okay in there?" My mother called out, trying the handle on the door only to find it locked.

"I'm fine. Everything's fine." I called back, muttering curses under my breath as I picked up the fallen bottles and trying my best not to slip and crack my head open. I hated how jumpy I had been lately. All of the doctors say it's normal after what I've been through, but that doesn't make me feel any better about it. I missed how I used to be. Before the nightmares and hallucinations, before the panic attacks, before death and destruction seemed to plague my life.

"Well don't forget your first day of school is officially tomorrow, but this morning you have an appointment with the guidance counselor." So I could tell the school how fucked up I was and they could take pity on me. Right.

"Do I have to go? I'll be fine tomorrow, I don't need to see a counselor or anything." I yelled back, slowly turning off the water and stepping out of the shower, wrapping my towel around my shivering body.

"This is not up for discussion, you know that. We need to inform the school of your…condition." I rolled my eyes, doodling absentmindedly in the condensation on the mirror.

"Whatever."

"So get ready. We're leaving in 20." I waited until I heard her footsteps vanish before sighing and yanking out the blow dryer from beneath the sink. Within fifteen minutes, my hair was dry and brushed, I was dressed in a white t-shirt and skinny jeans, and I was pulling on my boots. My mom walked in just as I was pushing my arms through my cardigan, the car keys dangling from her hand.

"Ready?" she held them up and tried to smile. I couldn't help but roll my eyes. "Hey, don't give me an attitude. This is for the best, you know that. Do not embarrass me in front of your new peers and faculty members at school, understood?"

"You're coming in with me? I didn't realize being a nutjob warranted a 24 hour babysitter." I pushed my way past her through the door and into the hallway, making my way to the kitchen. I heard her hurrying after me as I opened the refrigerator door, grabbing a bottle of water and slamming it shut.

"You are not a nutjob! How many times do we have to tell you that? My daughter is not crazy!"

"Then I really hope you have another daughter, because if you're making me go to yet another counselor, clearly you think I'm crazy." I grabbed my bag off of the couch and swung the front door open, stomping down the steps to the car.

"You've been a part of some unfortunate events, that does not make you crazy!" I heard my mother's aggravated tone from behind me.

"I'm pretty sure the hallucinations and night terrors do though." I spun on her before opening up the passenger side door and angrily shoving myself inside the car. The rest of the car ride consisted of my mother arguing about how I wasn't crazy, just "unlucky", and me not so subtly ignoring her. Before the "accident" as everyone likes to call it, she would have been the first person to call me crazy. She already called me every other insult on a daily basis. She never thought before she spoke, and while I knew she loved me, part of me wasn't sure if I could ever forgive her for some of the awful things she had said to me.

When we finally pulled up in front of the school, my mother and I had settled into a silence so thick I was half wondering if this was another hallucination. We made our way through the winding halls, past the vibrant blue lockers, nothing like the dull green ones at my old school. We managed to find the main office without ripping each other's heads off, and I held the door open for my mom as a sign of peace. She walked in without so much as a thank you. I bit my tongue and followed her in.

"Hi, can I help you?" A woman with cropped red hair and a face with sharp and severe features greeted us.

"Hi, my daughter is new here and we have an appointment with the guidance counselor."

"Oh you must be…Mrs. Moore. Nice to meet you, my name is Mrs. Argent. The guidance department is right through that door."

"Thank you very much Mrs. Argent. Come on," I smiled feebly at Mrs. Argent before following my mother through the door. Another woman sat behind a desk, this time a kinder looking woman, with warm brown eyes and soft curls.

"Hello there, is there something I can help you with today?"

"Yes, hi. My daughter has an appointment with Ms. Morrell."

"Oh you must be the Moore's! How are you doing? Has the move been hard on you? I remember when I moved out here it was exhausting adjusting to everything and all that, but once you settle down, Beacon Hills is simply wonderful." She shot my mother a radiant smile and then seemed to notice me for the first time. "Oh you can go ahead and have a seat sweetie, Ms. Morrell will be with you in a minute." The woman smiled politely at me and I returned the gesture, making my way over to the row of uncomfortable looking chairs. I sat down in one, a few seats away from a girl who looked about my age, with bright red curls. She sat with her legs, clad in blue tights, crossed, and she wore bright pink gloves over her hands, a small confident smile on her face. Suddenly her expression grew serious, her lips drawing into a thin line as she stared off into space. She stayed like that for a bit, the look on her face a mix of horror and fear. She blinked hard, as if waking herself up and turned her head towards me. I turned my attention back to my mother, who was still in front of me making small talk with the receptionist.

"Just what do you think you're looking at?" she asked, her voice trembling the tiniest bit. I shook my head, pressing my lips together.

"Nothing." And just like that, any traces of the unsureness, the vulnerability, the haunted look in her eyes, was gone.

"You think I'm _weird_? That I have some _issues_?" Her green eyes bore into me, making me feel like a small child being scolded for stealing a cookie.

"I didn't say that."

"It was what you were thinking though, wasn't it? Well I'm only here to get my parents off my back. Where as you, it seems, are here _with_ your parents. So clearly _I'm_ not the one with the issues." She tossed her hair over her shoulder, turning away from me. I narrowed my eyes as my hands bunched up into fists at my sides. I hadn't even officially started school yet and I was doing just wonderful with making friends.

"No, of course not. You're just here to talk to the _guidance counselor_ about next week's tap dancing class. See if she can help you work on your shuffle ball change, right? It's not because you have any issues in need of counseling or anything." Her head snapped up, and she looked at me from out of the corner of her eye.

"I'm not so sure I like your attitude." She huffed, crossing her arms across her chest.

"You don't have to like it. You just have to deal with it." I said, mimicking her posture.

"Do you have any idea who I am?"

"Someone obviously admired for their sparkling personality and charm."

"Okay hon, the sarcasm is getting really old really fast." She deadpanned, the defensive tone gone from her voice.

"Sorry, old habits die hard."

"I am the most popular girl in school. Or…at least I used to be. The last thing I need is for everyone to find out I'm seeing the school psychologist because my parents think I'm nuts." Her eyes pleaded with me to understand, and suddenly I wasn't looking at this stuck up princess with a major attitude problem. I saw myself. Only a few months ago. Stuck in a bad place in life, with things I couldn't control, or explain happening around me. Sometimes no matter what you do, the crazy finds you. "So please, just…please don't tell anyone you saw me here." Her voice brought me back to the here and now, and I looked up and smiled at her. Probably the first genuine smile I'd given anyone since being in this new town.

"Well, I don't even know your name, so you don't have to worry about me." She smiled back at me, a little nervously, so I added "I know what it's like. To have everyone think you're crazy. It sucks. Your secret's safe with me."

"Lydia."

"What?" I asked, my eyebrows scrunching together.

"That's my name. Lydia Martin." She held out her hand to me and I took it, somewhat apprehensively. I'm not sure what I had done to earn a change of heart from a girl who didn't seem to accept many people into her life. But it seemed that she no longer wanted to maim and kill me anymore at least. I opened my mouth to speak when the door to the counselor's office swung open.

"Ryan Moore?" she called, looking at me. I stood up, picking up my bag from the floor.

"That would be _my_ name."

"…Ryan? Isn't that a-"

"A boy's name, yeah." I nodded, walking backwards towards the woman I was expected to pour my heart and soul out to for the next twenty minutes.

"Hm. It has a certain je ne sais quois about it. I like it." She smiled as if please by her new discovery. "You'll see me later." She waved as I stepped into the office and took a seat in one of the leather chairs. The room looked like your typical high school office, inspirational posters lining the walls, a bookshelf here or there, picture frames arranged neatly at the front of the desk.

"So. Ryan. My name is Ms. Morrell. I wish we could have met on better circumstances." She smiled sympathetically at me as I wondered what a "good circumstance" to meet with a school psychologist could be. Did she mean "less tragic"? That seemed more appropriate. "Your parents called last week and informed us of some of the events, but I wanted to talk to you specifically about what happened." I narrowed my eyes at her, gripping the armrests a little harder than necessary.

"Are you gonna try and diagnose me too? Prescribe me some more pills? Can you even do that here?"

"Do you want me to do that?" She asked, her face as neutral as Switzerland itself. One of my favorite past times was reading people, seeing their emotions dance across their face, interpreting their body language. Not only did psychologists rarely give you anything to go off of, but they analyzed you instead. I didn't like having the tables turned.

"No." My gaze was hard, and I reminded myself not to break for this woman. They would not put me on more pills, they would not try and tell me I'm crazier than I already know I am.

"Then what do you want?"

"I don't…I don't know. The nightmares to stop? To stop having to see counselor after counselor? For everyone to stop looking at me like I'm a liability?"

"What do you mean by that?"

"I don't know, when people find out that sometimes I see and hear things that aren't really there, they label me as crazy. But then when they find out why, they look at me like I'm a kicked puppy. The reasons don't excuse the results."

"Is that why you don't tell people you're suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder?" Her tone is soothing, gentle almost. But I still flinch at the words.

"You can give it a name if you want to. But either way, no one chooses to be crazy. So I shouldn't be treated differently just because my circumstances are different than someone else's." I set my chin, staring at Ms. Morrell's shoes.

"That's an interesting way of looking at it. It sounds like you knew someone who suffered from your symptoms but who did not have PTSD. Is that true?" Her face flashes through my mind as if I had seen her fifteen minutes ago. The image is so clear I can almost reach out and touch her. The dark brown hair, the porcelain skin, the deep green eyes.

Blood, blood, blood, all covered in blood.


	3. Trauma

"No." I shook my head, trying to clear it. It only half worked, but I could still smell the blood.

"You said you still had nightmares. Do you still have the hallucinations?" I closed my eyes as the images all came rushing back at once. Standing in the hospital, at the foot of her bed. Seeing her bloated body, the blood leaking from her mouth. If she had drowned then why was there so much blood? Beep. _She was trying to save you, you know._ Beep. I didn't mean to. Beep. _This is all _your_ fault._ Beep. I didn't know this would happen. Beep. _If only she had just let you kill yourself._ I wasn't trying to kill myself. Beep. Was I? Maybe I was. Beep. I think I might have been. I don't know. I don't know. I don't know.

Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.

When individual beeps of a heart rate monitor became one.

_I'm sorry. We did all we could._ She's gone._ Rest in peace Casey May Scott, heaven has another beautiful angel._ The funeral, everyone dressed in black. Girls who called her names and wrote nasty things about her on the bathroom stalls crying, makeup running down their faces. _She was such a good friend_. They all say. _What a gorgeous girl she was._ Says the boy who told her she was fat. _She had such a bright future_. Says a teacher, who six days prior had told her she was the dumbest student he had ever had the misfortune of teaching. My turn. My turn to speak. My turn to place my flower. To say goodbye to her casket.

No. No no no. _Ryan you can't stay here all night_. No. _Ryan it's time to go._ No. _Ryan come on now_. No. _Ryan you're making a scene!_ No. _Ryan she did this for you_. No. _Ryan is this how you want to repay her?_ No. _Ryan put down the knife._ No. _Ryan_. _Ryan_. _Ryan_. Ryan. Ryan.

"Ryan?" I opened my eyes, only slightly surprised to find that I wasn't back at the hospital, or the cemetery, but instead in Ms. Morrell's office. Where I was the whole time. There's a part of my brain that registers that what I'm seeing, hearing, feeling, isn't real. But the emotions that are associated with it all are too strong for me to process that when I have an episode. Afterwards I know it's not real. Sometimes.

"Sorry?" I asked, squinting my eyes to focus better.

"Have you been hallucinating lately?" Her voice was mild and patient, like a mother with her child.

"No." I said, looking her in the eyes. I had learned how to lie believably after I realized it was necessary unless I wanted to be institutionalized. I wasn't confident about much, but my ability to lie my way out of compromising situations was something I was admittedly proud of. But there was something about Ms. Morrell that disrupted my self-assurance. I felt as if she was dissecting every word that came out of my mouth, assessing it, analyzing it. It was a bit unnerving, especially since I knew I was essentially on trial for being a psychopath.

"Alright. So why don't we start from where you are now, and work our way back. You just moved here to Beacon Hills, correct?" And this is where things get complicated.

"Yeah, last week."

"Okay. Why did you and your family decide to move?"

"My parents thought it would be good for me. They felt that our old town 'harbored too many bad memories.'" I couldn't help rolling my eyes.

"And you don't agree?" She leaned forward, resting her chin on her hands.

"No. Not really. I can't just 'escape the bad memories' by moving across the country. The bad memories are always going to be with me. People keep telling me I'm not crazy, but then they list all of my psychoses. They shove antipsychotics down my throat, but tell me that I'm not responsible for my brand of crazy. So does that make me actually crazy or not? I see these "bad" memories every time I close my eyes. They happened to me. Moving across the country isn't going to change that."

"Fair enough." Her smile was warm, and I felt the knot in my stomach loosen just a bit. "What exactly happened to you?" I sighed. This was where it all got complicated.

"I only remember parts. I was having a really bad day, so I went out to the lake by my house. I always went there when I needed to think. Everything was falling apart, things were happening that I couldn't explain, no one believed me and I just…I jumped in."

"Into the lake?"

I saw it again, clear as day. The lake I had practically grown up on. A place I had always associated with peace and serenity, swimming in it as a little girl, having picnics with my parents when we still got along, camping out there every summer with my friends. And somehow, in the span of twenty minutes, it turned into a place where all of my worst nightmares came true. I could still feel the chill of the water against my bare arms, as I waded into the center. It sent a shiver through my body that seemed to start within my bones and travel up my body. I looked at Ms. Morrell, but words failed me, so instead I just nodded.

"What happened then?" I studied her expression for some kind of emotion, shock, disgust, anything, but came up short. It wasn't until then did I realize she wasn't taking notes, or writing anything down unlike any other psychologist I had been to.

"I sank." I stated dryly, eyeing her skeptically. There was something very different about Ms. Morrell, and I wasn't sure if it was something that worked in my favor or not.

"Did you know how to swim?" Her face remained placid and calm, somehow making the conversation a bit awkward.

"Yes." I swallowed, suddenly uncomfortable with the entirety of the situation.

"Did you try to? To get back to the surface?"

I felt my heart rate pick up, my vision blurring slightly. Suddenly the walls felt like they were closing in on me, and my fingernails dug into the armrests of the chair I felt I was sliding out of. I heard my heavy breathing in my ears, but that was about it. Everything seemed to be in slow motion, including myself. My head felt heavy as I moved it side to side, watching as objects blurred as they moved through my field of vision. Ms. Morrell was speaking, her eyebrows pulled tightly together, but no sound registered in my head. All I heard was ringing, as I squinted to focus on Ms. Morrell's mouth, feebly attempting to read her lips.

I shook my head, holding up my hand to her. _Shh_, the voice in my head pleaded. _Stop trying to talk please. Just stop._ I picked one of the posters behind her head to focus on, a colorful one that said SELF ESTEEM in big block letters. I blocked out everything that was not that poster, noting the way the words curved upwards and downwards, the blend of colors in the background, the way the edge was slightly torn. I felt my ears pop and everything rushed back into focus all at once, making me gasp.

"Ryan?" Ms. Morrell kneeled in front of me, her voice calm and collected. But that was the only thing calm about her. She looked panicked, worry lines creasing her forehead.

"I'm okay now." I sighed, trying to keep my voice even.

"I think that's enough for today." She smiled gently, placing a hand on my shoulder and giving it a squeeze, before standing up and opening the door for me. I tried to reciprocate the smile, but only half of my heart was in it. I followed her out and noticed Lydia staring at the empty seat beside her, looking frustrated.

"Are you ready Lydia? Ms. Morrell called from behind me, as I smoothed down my hair and made my way over to my mother, now sitting in one of the plastic chairs. Lydia huffed agrily, before standing up and storming into Ms. Morrell's office. I blinked a few times, not sure as to what had just happened.

"How was your session?" My mother asked cheerily.

"Can we go?" I threw one last glace towards Ms. Morrell's office, the door now shut as Lydia took my place in the armchair.

"What did you do this time?" she hissed under her breath, snatching her bag from the seat next to her and hurrying out of the office after me.

"Why do you always assume I've done something?" I sighed angrily, climbing into the car. My mother climbed in next to me, shoving the key into the ignition with more force than necessary. "Shit," I muttered, suddenly noticing the absence of my bag.

"Excuse me?" my mother looked at me sternly, one eyebrow raised.

"I left my bag inside. I'll be right back." I explained, getting out of the car and running back up the steps into my new school. After retracing my steps, and finding my bag with the guidance office receptionist after reasonably leaving it in Ms. Morrell's office, I sat down against a row of lockers in the empty hallway. I checked my bag to make sure everything was still in there, before closing my eyes and massaging my temples.

I had tried so hard to make things work with my mom. All I had ever wanted was a close relationship with my parents. No one ever really understood how much it hurt me when I would see all of my friends going shopping with their moms, or going out to dinner with their moms, or even just having a god damned civil conversation with their moms. My mother was too critical of everyone and everything, and while she thought she was helping me, all she ever did was destroy my self-esteem and self-worth essentially. My father acted more like a child than an adult, and only became a parent to lecture me and scream at me when I messed up. I was completely alone in my family, and now with Casey dead and all of my other friends back home in New York, I was completely alone in the world too.

I felt another panic attack coming on, but fought it down, rummaging through my bag for my water bottle. By the time I finally felt the coolness of the bottle at the bottom of my bag, my breathing had quickened and I could feel my ears getting hot. I yanked the bottle from my bag, fumbling with it and dropping it, watching it roll across the floor. I groaned and began crawling towards it, too lazy and afraid I'd fall over to stand up. I followed it to the end of the hallway, muttering curses under my breath until it finally was halted by someone's shoe. Decidedly not a woman's shoe. I froze, the embarrassment from being caught crawling down the hallway after a water bottle evident in my bright red face. He was clad in leather, and everything about him was dark. He was either the total bad boy in school, or an escaped fugitive. The slight five o'clock shadow led me to believe it was the latter. He bent down, picking up the bottle and handing it to me, a small smirk on his face.

"Thirsty?"

* * *

**A/N: Hello there! So being as this is my first Teen Wolf story, and basically the first story I've published in a very very long time, so long that I barely consider my other stories to even be stories, I would just like to thank you lovely people for reading this! And thank you all especially for reviewing! Keep the reviews coming, since I haven't written in so long they're really helpful and I'd love to know what you guys like and don't like so far! Thank you! :]**

**-Briana**


	4. Old Ends And New Beginnings

I shifted my weight backwards, plopping down on the ground as the world around me slowed its spinning. I took a sip of my water, my hands still visibly shaking.

"Hm. Anxiety?" he cocked his head to the side, his green eyes studying me with an amused expression. "That can be easily fixed." I swallowed, raising an eyebrow.

"Excuse me." I blinked at him, my voice devoid of all emotion. I didn't know who this guy was, but I knew he was not a faculty member, and odds are if he was skulking around the halls of a high school before school, he was probably bad news. And I did not need any more bad news in my life.

"Don't they have medicine for that?" he shot me a smile that could charm the pants off of the Queen of England, and I glanced around me, just to be sure he was still talking to me. I had to admit, for someone who had probably recently busted out of the clink, he was attractive. Very attractive. I couldn't help shake the feeling that I knew him somehow though.

"Right." I said slowly, standing up and wiping my now still hands against my jeans. "Who are you?"

"Derek." He smiled at me as if it were the punch line of a joke, and I took a small step back. "You're Ryan? Right?"

"How do you know my name?" I eyed him skeptically, looking him in the eyes and reminding myself to stand tall. I had been through enough to not let myself be scared by some dude in a leather jacket. He leaned a bit closer to me, looking from side to side before meeting my eyes again.

"Call it a hunch." He smiled at me and I swear I saw fangs as my vision blurred. I blinked hard, but it was no use. I wasn't in Beacon Hills High School anymore. I was back in New York, at Casey's house, two years younger.

_You better run, run, run, run, run  
Cause there's gonna be some hell to pay  
You better run, run, run, run, run  
And that's the only thing I'm gonna say, hey  
I wish I'd known right from the start  
that I was dancing with the dark  
You better run  
Devil, Run, Run, Devil, Run Run  
Run Devil Devil Run Run_

_"Stop, stop, stop." Casey held her hand up as the music played on, the speakers on her boom box visibly thumping to the beat. "Avery, you missed your mark again!" she shot her younger sister an exasperated look, before sighing loudly and looking at me._

_"I did not!" Avery defended, crossing her arms._

_"Well then make it sharper or something! This routine has to be flawless! We're going to make those cheerleaders regret cutting us from the team." _

_"Case, calm down. Not making that squad of bimbos is the best that's happened to us yet." I laughed, as her glare softened slightly. I looked at Avery, who was seething frustration, and patted her arm. "Ava, just get into it more. Give it more emotion, or it just looks like a robotic dance." It always made me smile at how similar Casey and Avery were. Not only did Avery look more like Casey's twin than her little sister, she had inherited all of Casey's personality traits and mannerisms. _

_"Why can't you be nice to me like Ryan, Case?" Ava stuck her tongue out at her sister, who reciprocated the action._

_"Because Ryan doesn't have to deal with you waking her up in the morning with your god awful singing in the shower. Now, back to work. From the top." She strode over to the stereo, which balanced delicately on the edge of her end table, pressing the back button. The intro to the song started again as Ava and I got into position. About three seconds later, Casey hit the stop button._

_"Did you guys hear that?" She spun towards us, looking panicked. Casey Scott never panicked._

_"No…Dude what's with you? You look seriously spooked. Is everything o-" I was cut off by the sound of a muffled scream. It almost sounded like a howl. I looked at Casey, who was watching me with wide eyes, as I walked towards the stairs. I had known the Scotts my whole life, and I couldn't remember a time when they weren't ridiculously wealthy. Their house was proof, consisting of three stories, a basement arcade and a winding driveway about a mile long. It was located on the edge of town, buried in the woods, with three ceiling to floor glass windows adorning the front. _

_As soon as I approached the bannister overlooking the foyer, I saw it. A man, running through the woods, shirtless nonetheless. "What the…"_

_"What? What is it?" Ava asked eagerly behind me, Casey on her tail._

_"I don't…I don't know…" I began descending the stairs, squinting in an attempt to better make out what exactly was going on. "Is he…growling?" My face contorted into a mask of confusion, as I felt Casey follow down the stairs behind me. Suddenly the man turned toward us, green eyes blazing and…his teeth, pointed and sharp, were barred. My eyes went wide as his gaze met mine and I froze, throwing my arm out to halt Casey's descent, instead shoving her back up the stairs. _

_"Ryan, what the-"_

_"Go!" I shouted at her, flying up the stairs myself, pulling Ava's arm with me as I passed her. I dove behind their couch, crouching down as Casey and Avery dove behind me. "Did you see that?" I turned to Casey, who looked slightly less panicked, but still obviously spooked. She gave me a confused look and I threw my hands up to my mouth. "The fangs?!" Her lips pressed together into a thin line, as she swallowed and shook her head 'no' slightly. I stood up, walking cautiously to the bannister again._

_"Is he gone?" Ava whispered from beneath the sofa cushion she had grabbed._

_"No sight of He-Wolf." I sighed, turning back to them. "Maybe invest in some curtains for these things?" I threw a finger over my shoulder to point at the giant windows that seemed to be scrutinizing us at this very moment. "Did you guys know that guy?" I asked, plopping down on the floor, leaning my head back against the wall. _

_"No. I think I would have remembered seeing him around." Ava gulped, as Casey smoothed her hair down. _

_"I think his name's Derek." Casey said nonchalantly, continuing to brush her fingers through Avery's hair. _

_"You think?" _

_"Yeah. I think he lives somewhere around here. Just a hunch really." She cleared her throat, dismissing the topic. I narrowed my eyes at her, acknowledging that she was keeping something from me, and doing a very poor job of it. She was probably hooking up with him and didn't want my opinion on the matter._

_"Well I'd steer clear of him if I were you."_

_"Why?"_

_"Call it a hunch." I shot her a look, crossing my arms over my chest._

Everything came back into focus at once, but it all looked brighter. The blue of the lockers, the green of Derek's eyes, the pounding in my head growing by the second.

"You," I breathed, my voice shaky. "You…"

"How's Casey doing?" He cocked his head to the side, and I broke.

"What did you do to her?!" I screamed, launching myself towards him, grabbing a fistful of his jacket. His eyes went wide as he held his arms out, trying to take a few steps away from me.

"What? Calm down, what are you talking about?"

"What did you do? WHAT DID YOU DO? You killed her, didn't you? Are you the reason she's dead? Are you?!" I pulled him back to me, surprised at my own strength, and from the look on his face, so was Derek.

"Word on the street is _you're_ the reason she's dead." He hissed, grabbing my wrists. "Now let. Go. Of me." He pried my hands off of him, pinning my wrists to the lockers. I was near hysterical and I could feel the tears streaming down my face. "I was going to ask you something, but clearly you need some time to adjust here." He said, glancing down the hallway at the sound of a door closing. "You need to get yourself together, before someone else dies." He added, before the screaming started.

It took me until I sank to the floor, curled up into a ball to realize the screams were coming from me. Derek was long gone by the time my mother and Ms. Morrell found me there like that, I guess after someone had either heard me screaming, or after my mom got tired of waiting for me in the car. I don't know how long it was, or how I got home and into my bed, and I only vaguely remember my father coming in to sit with me, trying to calm me down and failing.

I sat there staring at my wall as the sun retired for the night, and the moon beckoned for the stars to come out and play. I was frozen in time, numb to all feeling. I know I had to have been sitting there for hours, but it felt like mere minutes. All I could see was Casey's face, all of the life drained out of her. And Ava, little Ava, staring at me like I had just ripped the sun from her sky. And I had.

"Ry? Are you hungry?" My dad peeked his head in and I shook my head, not trusting my stomach to keep any food down. "Okay. Excited for school tomorrow?" He asked sitting down on my bed again, and I just stared at him, raising my eyebrows after a while. "Figured I'd ask." He shrugged. "Did you know that Beacon Hills is really into lacrosse? Learned that at work today. They think it's better than football, but I don't know about that. You know how much I loved football when I was in high school. I was the star quarterback. I always got penalties when I played lacrosse. I would tackle players unnecessarily, according to the refs." My dad continued his rant, that familiar reminiscent look in his eyes. "Anyway, I hear there's a game tonight. I wonder if they're any good. Hey, do you wanna go? Maybe you can make some new friends before your first day tomorrow?"

I sighed, thinking it over. I really didn't want to go back to Beacon Hills High School. But I had to go tomorrow anyway. And I'd rather freak out at some high strung lacrosse game with everyone distracted as opposed to in class on my first day at a new school. I knew he was trying to get my mind off of everything, and honestly, at the moment that seemed like a good idea.

"Okay." I nodded, throwing the covers off of myself and reaching for my boots. About 30 minutes later my dad had his arm around me in the stands of the Beacon Hills lacrosse field, cheering and shouting so loud people were staring. Either that, or they knew we were new. Or they heard about the screaming psychopath who would soon be plaguing the halls of the school their children attended. It could have been anything really.

I didn't know much about lacrosse, but I put on a show for my dad, since he was trying so hard. I whooped and cheered when we had the ball, stood up and applauded when we scored, and booed when the other team did well. Unfortunately for us Cyclones, as we were apparently called, that meant I was just mostly booing. The other team was absolutely destroying us, and making good use of one player who seemed to be something of a small frost giant? Perhaps the son of the abominable snowman? Either way, he was wiping the floor with our team.

For a while, the game was really helping. It kept me distracted, and I was learning that that was what I needed. As long as I was distracted, I was okay. But when I saw a figure emerge from the woods to the side of us, who looked strikingly like Derek, I felt myself begin to go into panic mode.

"Hey dad, I'll be right back. I have to go to the bathroom." I leaned over and whispered to my father, who nodded okay at me before returning to his cheering. I made my way towards the darkened school, the only lights seemingly on being those in the lobby, bleeding out through the windows and onto the grass. I passed row after row of cars, before a boy in a red track suit almost trampled me. He clipped my arm, screaming a "Sorry!" over his shoulder as he frantically, and to be honest a bit spastically, ran towards the school. I stopped in my tracks, looking from the boy, to the direction he had come from. I heard strangled, muffled sobs coming from one of the cars. I knew I shouldn't have, that it was probably an invasion of privacy, but the sobs somehow sounded familiar. I silently made my way around the car, trying to get a good look at who was inside. All I saw was a red mane of curls, and I knew.

"Knock knock." I rapped on the window with the back of my hands as Lydia mopped up the last of her tears with her fingers.

"Go away!" she said, turning away from me.

"Actually, I believe the next line is something like, 'who's there?'" I smiled, leaning closer to the window. "What's up? Does badly played lacrosse usually make you this emotional?" I joked, as she fumbled with her tissue. "Hey," I said, more seriously. "I was just joking, I'm sorry. Seriously, what's wrong?"

"I'm fine, okay?" she still refused to look at me, instead looking straight ahead as she made an exasperated gesture with her hands.

"Listen, I know I don't know you, and more importantly you don't know me. But you're sitting out here crying alone in your car and I don't know what self help guide you've been reading, but that doesn't constitute being 'fine'."

"Did you come over here to lecture me, because I so don't need that right now." I sighed, realizing how I sounded.

"No. No, I came over here to see if you needed anything. Being alone sucks, crying sucks, and doing both together doubly sucks." I turned, pressing my back flat against her window. "So if you don't want to talk to me that's okay. I'll just stay here so you're not alone." She was quiet for a few minutes, before I heard the click of the door unlocking, and I turned around to see her opening the passenger side door.

"If you're really that insistent on staying here, you mind as well not get hypothermia from it." She looked at me, and her eyes said everything else she hadn't. The thank you that I hadn't needed, but appreciated anyway. I had the feeling Lydia wasn't the type of person to outright say thank you anyway. I slid into the seat, shutting the door behind me, the silence slowly devouring us.

"Did you want to talk or-?"

"Not really." She sniffed, nearly cutting me off.

"Okay." I nodded, pursing my lips. I had been the one in need of comforting for so long, I had almost forgot how to comfort someone else. I frowned at the thought, displeased with myself. I was going to do things right this time.

"You'd just think I was crazy anyway." She dabbed at her eye once more and I let out a laugh.

"You can't really beat me on the crazy scale, trust me."

"Why were you in guidance this morning?" she asked quietly, sounding a bit more like herself. I closed my eyes, a small smile on my lips. Thinking about it always made it worse, but she needed a distraction. Sacrifices needed to be made. I opened them, smiling a bit wider, turning to look at her.

"Once you find out you're gonna kick me out of the car and never talk to me again. That's how the whole pretty popular girl and weird new kid friendship goes right? The popular girl bonds with the new girl, until she finds out her secret, then she dumps her and spreads her secret around the school?" Lydia laughed and shook her head, putting her tissue down.

"No. I won't. Maybe I would have once. But…well I'm not so sure how popular I am anymore anyway. I won't tell as long as you don't." I nodded, and sighed.

"Okay. Well, sometimes I see my dead best friend, I can't get through a single night without having brutally terrifying nightmares, I hear voices occasionally, along with being overly depressed and having awful anxiety." Lydia's eyes widened slightly as she blinked at me a few times, her mouth open and visibly fighting for words to say. "In other words, I have Post Traumatic Stress Disorder." I clarified, as she nodded slowly.

"Oh." she quipped, her lips pushed together into a thin line. "How did you get it?"

"My best friend died, and I basically killed her." I confessed in one big rush of air, hoping to rip the band aid off both for Lydia and myself. She stared at me again, blinking.

"Okay, currently considering kicking you out of the car…"

"I didn't slit her throat or anything." I said, trying to laugh. It came out as more of a choke though. "I was drowning. She tried to save me. The roles got reversed, and she died instead of me." I gave her the abridged version, knowing I'd probably have to finish telling Ms. Morrell the detailed one tomorrow, especially after my episodes today.

"Oh." Lydia said quietly, nodding again. "I'm sorry."

"Yeah." I nodded. "I like your gloves by the way." I said, pointing at her hands in her lap. Her head shot up, giving me a skeptical look before clearing her throat.

"Thanks. I didn't see you in school today, what's your schedule like?" She asked, skillfully switching topics. I liked her.

"That's because my first day is tomorrow. And honestly, I have no idea." I pulled my crumpled up schedule from my bag, handing it to Lydia.

"Oh we have a bunch of classes together!" She smiled, perking up. "Hey, why don't you sleep over my house tonight. I can prep you for school tomorrow and you can borrow an outfit to wear so you'll look _killer_." She smiled at me, clapping her hands together and I couldn't help but smile back. Maybe Lydia and I could really be good friends. I'd been lacking in the friend department for a while anyway.

_Just try not to murder this one_, a voice echoed in the back of my head snapping me back to reality. I bit it back though, nodding at Lydia.

"Yeah, that sounds good. Let me just go tell my dad back on the field." I opened my door, quickly walking towards the lacrosse field. The voice in my head was sometimes Casey, sometimes my own. Occasionally it was her older brother, but that's a different story. This time is was Ava. The only Scott child still breathing, as far as I knew anyway. And somehow that made it worse, made the words seem more bitter and vile.

Death followed me like a plague, how could I try to befriend Lydia when there was a 50% chance that doing so might kill her? I bit my lip and shook my head, ceasing my train of thought. I couldn't think like this anymore. I was going to try and be normal. Beacon Hills meant a fresh start at a normal life, and I was going to make the most of it. I climbed up the bleachers, finding my dad still enthusiastically cheering. Things had apparently turned around in my absence, with the addition of a new player on our team.

"Hey, dad!" I said cheerily. I was going to give him no reason to say no. Then again, he'd probably be delighted that I was actually making friends.

"Hey Ry, what took you so long? Did you get lost?" He chuckled.

"Um actually, I made a new friend. She was wondering if I could sleepover tonight?" Immediately my dad's expression changed to one of a more serious nature, beginning to shake his head.

"Ryan I don't know about that, tomorrow's your first day of school at a _new_ school and-"

"Exactly! Lydia's going to help me get ready for school, and she has a bunch of classes with me. I'll be fine, I promise."

"Does Lydia and her parents know about your uh, condition?" he coughed out, as I rolled my eyes.

"Yes, Lydia knows. I'll be fine. I'll see you tomorrow after school." I said, hugging him goodbye.

"Be careful." He called after me as I made my way back to Lydia's car. I was going to make things better for myself. Starting with this.

* * *

**A/N: Thank you so so much to everyone who has reviewed and given feedback! I appreciate it all so much, please keep it coming! I hope you like where it's going, next chapter is where things really get fun so stay tuned folks! :]**


	5. Bad Wolf

The alarm on Lydia's nightstand buzzed incessantly until she finally reached a lazy arm over, tapping it a few times before it ultimately turned off. I sat up groggily, wiping my eyes as Lydia yawned.

"Maybe we should have gone to bed earlier last night," I said, only half awake, as Lydia threw the covers off of herself and trudged over to her wardrobe. We had fallen asleep at around 4am, after discussing what I would wear tomorrow, what _Lydia_ would wear tomorrow, what a dick her ex-boyfriend Jackson was, and how her best friend Allison had been MIA for the past few days. It was mostly Lydia sharing, which I had no problem with. Personally, I was tired of sharing. And it was nice, having someone confide in you. It made me feel important to someone again.

"Eh. It was time well spent. Besides, we picked you out an outfit that is going to make you the talk of the school!" She shrugged her shoulder excitedly, before whirling around and sifting through her closet to find a jacket to go with the cream colored lace dress she had picked out for herself. I didn't mention that being the talk of the school was the last thing I wanted to be, but it was a cute outfit nonetheless, combining my own personal style with Lydia's expertise. I rolled myself out of Lydia's ridiculously large bed, walking over to the chair where she had laid out my clothes. I stepped into the off-white baby doll dress with lace along the bottom half of the skirt, pulling an oversized purple sweater over it. Lydia decided on a pink leather jacket, as I did up the laces on my combat boots.

She sat down at her vanity, gracefully brushing a pink lip gloss onto her lips, as I dug through my purse and emerged with my schedule. I looked it over, holding my head in my hands and resisting the urge I had to pull my hair out. How was I going to make it through the day? I had Lydia for a good portion of it, but she had other friends too. Particularly another best friend, who I needed to make a good impression on if I wanted to _continue _having friends. I let out a heavy sigh as Lydia finished applying her mascara, turning towards me with one last stroke of her wrist.

"Your turn," she sang, motioning me towards the chair.

"Oh, no, I don't really wear makeup that often…" I started, smiling sheepishly at her.

"And what better day to start than your first day of school?" She smiled at me, grabbing my hand and pulling me over to the vanity. I sat there like a Barbie doll, letting Lydia do whatever she wanted, because Lydia seemed like the type of person who liked to fix things. And I was in desperate need of fixing anyway. She kept it simple, applying a thin layer of eyeliner on my water line, and a very light and natural lipstick. We got our things together and piled into Lydia's car, making our way to school with Lydia talking animatedly the whole way, and me being relatively quiet, responding politely when appropriate. I was pleasantly surprised to find that while Lydia was a bit of a princess, she was actually really smart. Like extremely. I'm pretty sure she could be classified as a genius.

"Stop being nervous," she snapped suddenly, causing me to flinch in my seat.

"Who said I was nervous?" I countered, crossing my arms and trying my best to look calm and collected.

"Please, I can practically smell the anxiety radiating off of you. Just relax, or you're gonna psych yourself out." She rolled her eyes as she pulled into a parking spot, narrowly avoiding a group of lacrosse players who thought it would be a good idea to congregate in the parking lot. "Assholes," she muttered under her breath, before grabbing her purse, tossing her hair over her shoulder and emerging from the car. I sat there for a minute, reminding myself to take deep breaths. That was all I was allowed though, before Lydia was knocking on my window, motioning for me to hurry up.

I unbuckled my seatbelt and climbed out of the car, grabbing my backpack on the way. Lydia linked arms with me and gave me what I assume was supposed to be a reassuring smile.

"Let's play the name game, shall we?" she grinned, bopping up the stairs dragging me along with her. "So that's Sadie, Maggie, Grace, Maxi, Cassie." She pointed as a group of girls walked past us, laughing and chatting excitedly. "Danny." she pointed to a tall and lean boy, with bronze skin, leaning up against the locker talking to another boy, equally as built, with lighter skin and spiked up brown hair. "Jackson." She motioned to him, clearing her throat, her lips in an annoyed pout as we halted at her locker. She quickly spun the dial, opening it and shoving all but one of her books in. "Hmm, Greenberg." I turned around, following her finger as I saw a boy's head disappear inside a classroom.

Across the hallway I noticed the lanky boy who seemed to have no control over his own limbs, the one that had almost ran me over last night. He was staring very blatantly at Lydia, throwing a few confused glances in my direction.

"Hey Lydia, I think you have an admirer." I motioned with my chin towards the boy as Lydia looked at him over her shoulder.

"Ah. That's Stiles." She nodded, closing her locker door before leaning her back against it. "And that's Allison, and her not-boyfriend Scott." She motioned towards the two brunettes who looked like it was paining them to stand more than a foot away from each other.

"You mean ex-boyfriend?" I raised an eyebrow, looking back at Lydia.

"No, I mean 'not-boyfriend.'" She held her hands up, exaggeratedly putting the term "not-boyfriend" in air-quotes. "They broke up a while ago, but…" She shrugged, her eyes scanning down the hallway. "And that's….actually I'm not sure what his name is. He's my neighbor though, apparently." She gestured down the hall, and I squinted to follow her aim.

"Which one?"

"That one. Right there. With the blue eyes, the one currently staring at us…?" She shook her head as if it were obvious, but still I saw no one. "He's the star player of the basketball team," she said, her voice sounding far away. For a moment my heart stopped, worried I was having another episode. But the world remained intact, and nothing started spinning. The voices in my head remained silent as I studied Lydia, who had gone pale.

"I thought lacrosse was the big sport played here?" I asked, resting my hand on her arm. "Lydia?"

"Right. Right yeah. Yeah it is. Sorry I don't…" She blinked, shaking her head slightly and looking up at me again. I knew those mannerisms all too well, and I squeezed her arm sympathetically. "Anyway," she sighed, and continued pointing out a few other people to me. I was temporarily distracted though.

"Hey," I said, holding out a hand to cut her off. She looked only slightly offended, following my gaze. "Who's that?" I kept my eyes fixed on the leather jacket he wore, green eyes flashing in my mind. But this jacket didn't belong to Derek. The boy stopped a few lockers away from us, a small smirk plastered on his face, as he ran a hand through his slightly unruly brown curls. No, this was decidedly not Derek.

"…Who? _Isaac_? Sweetie, no," Lydia said, shaking her head instantaneously.

"N-No? What do you mean no?" I stuttered, feeling the blood rush to my cheeks.

"We don't go there." She gave me a stern look, her eyebrows shooting up her forehead.

"We don't go th…? Lydia, no! I just wanted to know who he was." I laughed, rolling my eyes at her sudden accusation. I mean he wasn't the worst looking guy in the world, but typically guys didn't find having mind numbing flashbacks, crippling panic attacks and hallucinating your dead best friend to be particularly attractive. And there was something about him that just kept screaming _Derek_ in my mind. Aside from their similar taste in fashion, Isaac also had an intimidation factor about him. There was something obviously dangerous about him, but at the same time I wanted him to look at me, and I couldn't understand why.

"Sure you did. Either way, Isaac Lahey is bad news. He only recently was released from police custody. Now come on, or you're going to be late for your first class." She spun on her heels, pulling my arm after her.

"Police custody?" I felt my eyes double in size, then return to normal. I wasn't exactly one to talk, since I could technically adopt the descriptive term of "murderer". "For what?"

"Hm, you know for someone who only wanted to know who he was, you seem awfully interested." She smirked, eyeing me as we turned the corner.

"You just told me the kid was arrested, you can't expect me not to ask why," I challenged, giving her a stubborn look of my own.

"He was a suspect in his father's murder case. Now enough with the questions, it's time to get to class. I'll meet you after class at my locker." She pushed me through the classroom door, making her way down the hall. Most of the seats were filled when I walked in, the bell on the precipice of ringing, so I decided to take an empty seat towards the back. I glanced around the classroom, looking for any faces that Lydia had pointed out to me that morning, or at least any of the ones I could remember.

Danny sat in the corner, his head slumped on his desk. Jackson sat in the seat next to him, tapping his foot repeatedly in time with his pen, giving me the completely irrational urge to walk over there, rip his pen out of his hand, and show him the proper use for pens, like maybe using it to impale him in the eye.

Lydia had told me all about Jackson all right.

Sadie sat a few rows to my left, idling scrolling on her phone, occasionally glancing up whenever someone passed her desk. I let out a heavy sigh, my pessimistic nature taking over as I dug out my notebook from my backpack. How was I going to suddenly insert myself into these friend groups that had probably been formed in kindergarten? I rummaged around the bottom of the bag looking for the pencil I had in there, unable to find it. With an exasperated roll of my eyes, I emptied the remains of my bag out onto my desk, noticing the small, chewed up pencil a second too late. I reached for it just as it bounced off of the edge of my desk, rolling down the aisle as I hung my head dramatically in shame.

A boy kneeled next to my desk, holding his hand out to me, pencil firmly in his grasp.

"Yours?" he smiled warmly at me, and I nodded, grinning back at him. I think Lydia had said his name was Scott?

"Yeah, thanks. Scott right?" I asked, taking a leap of faith and trying out this whole "making friends" thing.

"Yeah, Scott McCall. You're new right?" He held out his hand to me and I took it, slightly impressed with myself. Was making friends really this…I don't know, easy?

"Ryan Moore." Unlike almost anyone I had ever met, his smile didn't falter once, and instead of the usual _"That's a boy's name"_ or _"Your parents named you _Ryan_?" _instead he just crept backwards to his seat.

"Cool. I hope Beacon Hills has been treating you well." I shot him another genuine smile, with teeth and everything, before his face suddenly became alarmed. I felt my smile drop, as fingertips trailed along the top of my desk, making their way to the back of the empty seat in front of me. My gaze travelled from his fingers, up his leather clad arm, his sleeves only slightly too long for him, to his face, that same smirk stuck on it like it was a permanent fixture. He sat down in front of me without a word as Scott practically gaped at him. I looked back and forth between the two a few times before picking up my pencil and deciding to trace the cover of my notebook instead of continuing to watch the homoerotic scene unfolding before my eyes.

I heard the loud squeak of sneaker soles on the tile, as a backpack was thrown to the ground and a body was thrown into a desk.

"I just talked to my dad, who just talked to Jackson, and I've got really, terrible, horrible, very _very_ bad news," Stiles gushed out in a whisper. I peered up at him out of the corner of my eye, his head bent forward, his body stiff. In the seat in front of him, Scott turned towards him slightly, cutting him off.

"I think I already know." He gestured towards Isaac as the two of them stared, and I was beginning to wonder if there were any straight boys at this school. It took me a minute to actually process what Stiles had said, Lydia's words echoing in my head. _Either way, Isaac Lahey is bad news ._I rolled my eyes before looking at the two boys, my face the equivalent of a question mark. I silently weighed the pros and cons of being the nosy new girl, before shrugging and leaning over to them. Curiosity killed the teenage psychopath.

"I don't. What's the bad news?" I widened my eyes a bit and smiled, while Stiles quickly looked from me to Scott and back again.

"Who..? I'm-I'm sorry, who are you?" he squinted at me, before being hit with a sudden realization. "You're that girl who was with Lydia this morning aren't you? Are you like, her cousin or something? You guys don't really look that much alike. Did she-did she say anything to you? About me? Or about any nightly urges she's been having?" Scott smacked his arm as I stared at the kid as if he had suddenly sprouted three heads. He might as well have. "Okay, the look you're giving me tells me that's a no…"

"Yeah, that would be a no."

"Right…" he nodded to himself, before looking back up at me. "I'm Stiles."

"So I've heard," I said, still eyeing him warily. "I'm Ryan."

"Your name's _Ryan_?" Ah here we go.

"Your name is _Stiles_." I raised my eyebrows at him as Scott choked down a laugh.

"Stiles _Stilinski_," Scott added, as my eyebrows rose farther.

"Stiles Stilinski," I repeated, my hand resting on my chin as I narrowed my eyes at him.

"Hey, hey there is a perfectly good explanation for that." He raised a finger, pointing it at me first, then at Scott.

"Am I going to receive said explanation?" I asked, my mouth quirking up into a smirk.

"Um, well…No." he blinked, shaking his head. "So right, Ryan, nice name, very feminine, I like it." He sniffed, nodding his head and sinking down in his chair. The bell rang, echoing through the classroom, as a man in a button down shirt and tie made his way to the front of the room.

"Good morning class, before today's lesson I would just like to introduce our new student, Ms. Ryan Moore." The entire class turned to look at me, and for a split second I wondered if it was that obvious that I was the new student. I gave a half wave/half salute from my seat, smiling politely at the teacher, Mr. Johnson I think.

"Hi," I said lamely, wishing everyone would stop looking at me. Mr. Johnson began on his lesson, which I had already learned the week before. Since I was starting in the middle of the school year, my parents had requested that I have work sent home to us so I could be caught up when I started here. Little did I know, that by actually completing all of it, instead of _caught up_, I was now _ahead_ of most of the curriculums. I instead continued to lazily trace over the sticker on the front of my notebook.

"I like your sticker." I glanced up to see ice blue eyes staring down at me. Isaac sat sideways in his chair, his hand reaching out to spin my notebook around to face him. His smirk seemed to turn into something more of him trying not to laugh as he ran his fingers over my "Bad Wolf" sticker.

"Thanks. It was-I mean, it's a friend's." I closed my eyes, mentally cursing myself. I hated talking about her in the past tense. It made me feel sick, and I could feel the slight tug at my sanity, as my mind threatened to throw me into an episode right here and now. _No_. I fought it down, forcing my thoughts away from that morning in English, when those awful girls made a song about how I looked like a boy. That morning when Casey marched over to my desk and stuck that sticker on my notebook, reminding me that what they said didn't matter because I was the baddest wolf of them all and that I could harness the power of a goddess and destroy a Dalek fleet if I really wanted to. I wouldn't think about how Casey was always the source of my strength, my rock through and through. I wouldn't do it.

When I opened my eyes, Isaac's face was inches from my own. I flinched back, startled as he let out a low chuckle, his eyes scanning over me in a way that made me feel like I might get sent to the principal's office for indecent exposure.

"Mm, do you have a lot of friends here? What with you being new and all?"

"Um, I have one or two," I mumbled, sliding my notebook back to me.

"You might want to consider making a few more," He said, his voice hushed but still managing to stir something up inside of me. I looked up at him, my eyebrows knitting together in confusion, as his eyes traveled from my notebook, up my arm, to my lips. He blinked, his eyes moving back to my own eyes as I stared at him suspiciously. What did that even _mean_? There was something about the way he said it, like there was an implication behind it that I wasn't sure I liked. "Some friends you're better off without. Just something to think about." He gave me a tight smile before the teacher coughed loudly.

"Mr. Lahey? Would you care to tell me the answer to this problem?"

"Plus or minus 12i." he answered, still looking at me. I stared at him hard, suddenly realizing why people seemed to be weary of this boy. His words, though extremely vague, seemed like a threat. He finally turned around, throwing a smile at Mr. Johnson, who stood there looking defeated.

"Very good." He muttered, turning back around to scribble on the board. I felt eyes on me still, and looked over at Scott and Stiles, who were staring at me so hard I thought they were going to give themselves a stroke.

"What?" I mouthed to them, as they both began furiously shaking their heads and holding their arms up as if to say "nothing". I rolled my eyes, shaking my head. Those two were a bit on the odd side. And that was coming from _me_.

I spent the rest of the period drawing in my notebook and trying not to nod off, absolutely _thrilled_ to be back in school. As soon as the bell rang, students fled the classroom like ants in danger of being stepped on. I gathered my books up, shoving them into my bag before walking out of the room, trying to remember which way Lydia's locker was.

"Hey Ryan, how's it going?"

"Wasn't that math class just _riveting_?" Suddenly I was ambushed, surrounded by the dynamic duo, each boy grasping me by my arm and hurrying me down the hallway.

"So what was Isaac saying to you?"

"Does she know who Isaac is?" Stiles stopped short, one hand on Scott's shoulder. He turned to me abruptly, eyebrows shooting up. "Do you know who Isaac is?"

"Through the grapevine." I looked between the two of them, flustered and confused. "Wha-where are we going? I'm supposed to meet Lydia at her locker."

"Lydia? Great, we'll take you to her!" Stiles slapped me on the shoulder as they made a wide turn at the end of the hallway, pulling me along with them. I shot him a look, causing him to lean away from me, rubbing my shoulder where he had just hit me.

"So, you and Isaac…."

"What?" I blinked up at Scott as he turned a corner, Stiles ushering me along.

"What were you two talking about?"

"Why does it matter?"

"Why does it matter? That's a great question, Stiles tell her why it matters!" Scott smiled at his friend with a halfhearted laugh, as he threw a glance over his shoulder.

"Right, um well see…it doesn't matter! Nope, not at all. Matter it does not. But you should really maybe considering telling us possibly. Like now." Stiles looked at me, before turning halfway around to look behind him.

"Wha…no! I don't even know you, why should I tell you anything if you won't even give me a reason? And we just passed Lydia's locker, so if you don't mind." I halted, yanking my arms free from them. They gave each other a look, before stepping in front of me, blocking my view of the hallway. I narrowed my eyes at them, giving my head a slight shake. "Will someone tell me what the hell is going on?" I snapped, cocking my head to the side and crossing my arms. Stiles slowly leaned over to rest his elbow on Scott's shoulder, both boys shaking their head.

"I-I wish I could tell you but…but I don't…know…what's going on…" Scott slowly choked out, sharing glances with Stiles.

"Right." I gave my head a curt nod, my tone impatient. "Okay, well if you'll excuse me." I pushed my way through them, only to find Isaac leaning against the lockers across the hallway, staring at me. I stood there, my mind a jumbled mess. My thoughts were racing, nothing making much sense. Who was this kid, and what was he playing at? What the hell were tweedle dee and tweedle dum hiding? Because they certainly knew something that I was clearly not supposed to know. I had been at this school for a single period and already shit was hitting the fan. Was I just incapable of being normal? What was next, a visit from the grim reaper himself?

Isaac looked down, laughing to himself, before pushing off of the wall, and disappearing down the hallway. Hushed voices behind suddenly became very clear as I tried to clear my head.

"Shit. Shit shit shit shit this is bad Scott, very very bad. What do you think he wants with her? She's new, Derek can't possibly think that_ she's_-" I spun around at the mention of his name, my vision immediately going spotty. My legs began to feel weak as I stared at them hard, trying not to let the sliver of horror I felt in the pit of my stomach leak into my expression.

"_Derek_?" I asked through clenched teeth. "What does Derek think?" Stiles's eyes tripled in size and Scott gaped at me, his mouth opening and closing much like a fish.

"Uh…Derek? Derek, do we know a Derek?" Scott fumbled, looking at Stiles as if his head was on fire.

"Nope, nope uh don't think we do." Stiles shook his head vigorously, scratching behind his head. I stood there, eyes narrowed, brows drawn together, just staring at them for a minute.

"There you are!" Lydia caught my arm, knocking me out of my trance. Allison stood next to her, smiling brightly. "Allison, this is Ryan."

"Hey Ryan, nice to meet you." Allison gave me a small wave, her eyes glancing at the two boys behind me.

"You too." I nodded, a smile plastered on my face as well. I knew how cliché it was, but I just wanted her to like me. I didn't want to be ostracized again because my only friend's best friend didn't approve of me. I needed to show them I could be normal, that I was capable of being normal. Even if I wasn't so sure of it myself.

"Hey guys." Allison gave Scott and Stiles a tight smile that didn't really reach her eyes, and they gave her a serious nod in greeting. She drew her eyebrows together; her mouth parting as a question formed on her tongue, but Scott shook his head quickly.

"We should get to class." Scott smiled, tapping Stiles on the shoulder.

"Hmm, yes please, decrease the awkward sexual tension that's going on right now." Lydia pressed her lips together in an annoyed smile, the two boys making their way down the hall.

"Actually Scott was probably right, we really should get to class or we'll be late." Allison's voice had a calm tone to it, quiet and soft.

"Ugh fine, whatever. I'll see you in Chemistry. Ryan's in our class too, so we can all bond." Lydia took my hand, leading us towards another classroom door.

"Bye Allison!" I waved over my shoulder. She waved at me before Lydia dragged me to the back of the classroom, indicating I sit in the desk in front of hers.

"So, how's your economics?" Lydia leaned forward on her arms, as I dug out my notebook and twisted in my chair, sitting sideways in the desk.

"Eh. I'll admit it's not my strongest subject. May have skipped a packet or four when I was supposed to be doing the work at home."

"A packet or _four_?" Lydia repeated, giving me a reproachful look. I shrugged, miming a yawn.

"It puts me to sleep!" She rolled her eyes, a faint smile on her lips.

"Well we'll have to get you caught up quick. We have a midterm tomorrow." I groaned, turning around as the teacher walked in and sliding down in my seat. "Coach Finstock." Lydia nodded towards the teacher, who slammed a textbook down on the front desk. "Don't let him scare you. He's only slightly crazy."

"Alright, listen up. Quick warning, before we begin our review. Some of you, like McCall," he threw a glance over towards the corner, where I noticed Scott, Stiles and Jackson were sitting. "Might want to start their own study groups, because tomorrow's midterm is so profoundly difficult," he gave a short laugh, shaking his head. "I-I'm not even sure I could pass it. Okay, I need a volunteer at the board to answer the first question. Who's got it, huh?" A sea of hands rose around me and I silently wondered if all of the students in Beacon Hills were geniuses like Lydia. "Come on, let's go buddy." Coach waved a student a few rows over from me towards the board, and he made his way up, picking up a piece of chalk and writing across the board in chicken scratch.

I copied everything down, squinting at my writing, in an attempt to make sense of it. I liked to think I was pretty smart. I mean, I was nowhere near Lydia's level. But I aced most of my classes, and anything I didn't get an A in, I pulled at least a B+. But I was just so bad at economics. None of it made sense to me, and it bored me too much to make me care.

"Jackson! Do you have something you want to share with the rest of the class?" Coach stood in front of Jackson's desk, hands gesturing to the rest of the classroom.

"Umm…just an…undying admiration for my-my coach."

"That's really kind of you." Coach nodded, as Jackson tried not to look smug and failed miserably. I rolled my eyes. This guy really was a whole new kind of jerkoff.

"Now SHUT UP. SHUT IT! Anybody else?" he walked back to the board, asking for more volunteers. Again, hands shot up all around me, and I sunk a little more in my seat, desperate to blend in. Lydia stood up and strode over to the board, her arm moving quickly as she wrote across it. I began copying it down again until I noticed that what she was writing wasn't the answer to the question. In fact, it didn't even make sense. I squinted at the words on the board, trying to read them but to no avail.

Strangled sobs erupted from her throat, and I _knew_. Whatever she had been seeing Ms. Morrell about, as fine as she claimed to be, this was why. If I had to guess, I would say the culprit was a hallucination. But Lydia kept writing, the same thing over and over again. It was definitely English, the letters just looked jumbled, or twisted. I turned my head sideways, my palms resting flat on my desk, trying to figure out what Lydia was writing.

"Lydia?" Coach began, as another sob rocked through her body, tears streaming down her face. "Lydiaaaa?" he sang, and her eyes shot open with a gasp. She looked from side to side frantically, her makeup smeared all over her face.

"Okay then…anybody else wanna try answering? This time in…English?" Coach asked, as a chorus of laughter erupted from the class. A look of horror overtook Lydia's face as she spun around to stare at the board. I stared at it, focusing, until the words jumped out at me, almost reversing themselves in my mind.

_SOMEONEHELPME_

The laughter continued as Lydia stood there, half mortified half stunned, and I couldn't stand to look at her like that anymore. I knew what I was doing was dumb, but I wasn't going to let her be humiliated like that. I clamped both hands over my ears, and let an ear piercing scream erupt from my throat, throwing myself out of my chair and onto the floor. I thought of Casey, her laughter that would forever haunt my nightmares, her smile that I would never see again. Her bloodied body etched into my memory, her closed casket being lowered into the ground. The tears came quickly, and my screams escalated into shrieking sobs. I couldn't even hear Coach freaking out. Lydia still stood stunned at the front of the classroom, and students moved their desks away from me as if I might bite off their toes.

"We'll take her to Ms. Morrell Coach," Scott hooked an arm around my torso as Stiles wrapped my arm around his neck. As soon as they carried me into the hallway I ceased my screaming, clearing my throat and wiping my eyes.

"Thanks boys, I'll take it from here." They both stared at me as I stood straight up, smoothing down my dress.

"Okay you are actually crazy." Stiles deadpanned, and I smiled at him.

"Just a little." I leaned closer to him, widening my eyes. "Embrace it."

"Did you…you just …?" Scott sputtered, blinking rapidly and looking from me back to the classroom.

"Go check on Lydia," I offered, seriously. He nodded slowly at me, turning back towards the door. Stiles smiled thoughtfully at me, and I could almost see the gears of his brain turning. He gave me a glance over his shoulder before following Scott back into class.

I made my way to the bathroom where I figured I could hide for a bit without actually having to go see Ms. Morrell. I was trying to avoid that conversation for as long as possible. The bathroom was mostly empty, with only one other girl washing her hands. I walked over to the sink and ran the water, gently mopping at the eyeliner that had smudged around my eyes.

"You've got some set of lungs." The girl turned to me, wiping her hands on her army green jeans, an almost wicked grin plastered on her face. She had blonde curls cascading around her face, and wore a leather jacket with a black t-shirt underneath. I cleared my throat again on impulse and went back to washing my hands, letting the cold water wash over them. The numbing sensation helped calm me, and I took a deep breath.

"That was you right?" she pressed, her brown eyes trying to burn a hole through my skull. "So what happened? Did you see an ax murderer or something?" she leaned against the sink, her head cocking to the side.

"Not quite." I finally met her gaze, with eyes as hard as steel. I wasn't going to let some blondie who couldn't even keep her boobs in her shirt try and intimidate me.

"Right, of course not. You've seen much scarier things, haven't you? Something as mundane as an ax murderer probably wouldn't earn as much of a peep out of you." Her expression hardened, all traces of joking gone. I gripped the edge of the sink hard before spinning to face her, head on.

"Who _are_ you?"

"Erica Reyes. And I know _all_ about you Ryan." She smiled confidently, her hand reaching up to poke me in the chest.

"You don't know jack shit about me," I warned, smacking her hand away before taking a step back.

"I know more than you think. I like you, you don't let people push you around. I think we'll get along just fine. Which is good news for you, because you need to seriously reconsider your friend choices." She held her hand up to her face, inspecting the nail I may or may not have chipped.

"What the hell does that mean?" I let out an exasperated sigh. What the hell was going on in Beacon Hills? This was some cheesy clichéd action movie shit that belonged in a Michael Bay film. Was the toilet about to explode next? Honestly.

"It means exactly what it sounds like. Lydia Martin is not the kind of friend you want, or need. _Trust me_." She practically growled, before a rhythmic knock on the bathroom door caught her attention. "And on that note, I'll see you around. _New best friend_." She laughed to herself, walking out of the bathroom. I followed her, watching her stroll down the hallway, with Isaac Lahey in tow.

_Oh for fuck's sake. _

It seemed I already had a big target painted on my back.

* * *

**A/N: Sorry this took so long guys! I've been super busy with the holidays and finals and everything, and then I hit a streak of bad writer's block. But I hope it didn't affect this chapter too much!**

**Thank you so so much to everyone who favorited or followed, and thanks to BrittWitt16, cat-afterlife, emele807, kaljara, and MessintheMirror for the lovely reviews for Chapter 4!**

**Keep the reviews coming please! Love you all!**

**Belated Happy Holidays and a Happy New Year to all!**


	6. Mind Games

I spent the rest of the period in the bathroom, trying not to be sick. So much had happened within a two hour period, and I needed to stay calm, or all hell would break loose. I walked back into class a minute before the bell rang, earning a stare from every single person in the room, Coach included.

"Uh…" I stammered, before the loud chime of the bell put me out of my misery and sent the class packing. I marched over to my desk, head held high, grabbing my backpack before chancing a look at Lydia. I may have saved her reputation, but it came at the cost of mine. And while I still didn't know her that well, I knew Lydia Martin did not associate with losers. She picked up her books and with a deep breath, met my gaze.

"So Economics bores you to tears apparently. How are you with chemistry?" with a flick of her head, she shot me and encouraging smile and I couldn't contain my sigh of relief. "Wow, you really hate Economics don't you?" she mocked, before breaking out into a grin and offering me her arm. I laughed, looping my arm through hers before making our way over to the door.

Jackson beat us there though, shooting an arm across the door and blocking our path.

"Congratulations Lydia. You're not the craziest person in the school anymore." He gave her a sarcastic smile, turning his attention to me. "However, your new best friend is. Seems like you just attract insanity. Or maybe," he gave a short laugh, looking down at his feet quickly. Lydia shifted on her feet, obviously uncomfortable but refusing to back down. "Maybe you make people go crazy." He looked back up at her and I saw her resolve breaking down before my very eyes.

"Choke on a dick Jackass." I rolled my eyes without missing a beat, easily pushing past him and pulling Lydia out the door with me. "Anyway, at least in chemistry you can blow things up or make things change color, as opposed to economics, where every change you make takes years and you can't even see it." I guided her down the hallway as she regained her confidence, shooting me an impressed smile.

"Do you even _know_ who I am?!" I heard Jackson scream after us. "Because I certainly don't know you!"

"Don't care." I kept my eyes straight ahead, raising my arm up to give him the finger.

"Teacher," Lydia hissed, pulling my arm down. "Don't get in trouble for him, he's not worth it." She shook her head at me, before pointing to the left, indicating that class was that way. Lydia began telling me about everything that had happened during her first class of the day, but a low chuckle caught my attention.

Isaac and Erica were stationed across the hallway from us, watching literally our every step. What was with those two? Were they in some kind of gang whose sole purpose was to intimidate new students? Rage bubbled up inside me, and I had to look away, focus on something else so I wouldn't lose it. Lydia was talking about some kid in her English class and I laughed with her, shaking my head at the apparent idiocy she had been going on about. I felt myself begin to overheat right as we reached the door to Chemistry, one of the warning signs for a panic attack.

"Hey, I'll be right back. I need to go get a drink." I slowly let go of her arm, trying to steady my breathing.

"Okay, I'll save you a seat." She gave me a smile and a small shrug of her shoulders before entering the classroom. I booked it to the water fountain, shoving past numerous students who clearly hadn't gotten the "Hallways are for walking, not crawling slower than a snail" memo. Once the water hit my tongue, I felt a little better, splashing it gently over my hands and face. I took a few deep breaths and felt myself calming down.

"Feeling better?"

"Holy sh-" I jumped, my hand going to my heart immediately, as Isaac leaned against the wall next to the fountain.

"Hm, jumpy are we?" He cocked his head to the side, inspecting first his nail, and then me.

"Why are you following me?" I stared hard at him, before deciding I didn't care as much as I thought I did. Or at least, I wasn't going to let him knew I cared. I was not going to give in and admit I was intimidated as I was. This was going to be the first game of cat and mouse where the mouse emerged victorious.

"Following you? Who said I was following you? Maybe I was just thirsty," He said, right at my ear.

"Apparently."

"Oh, so you've got some jokes huh?"

"I've also got some pepper spray in my bag, if you wanna try that out too." I shrugged, keeping my eyes on the prize, or in this case the door to the chemistry classroom.

"Isn't that illegal?"

"Said the ex-fugitive."

"Hey, there's an ex in that phrase for a reason." He shoved his hands into his pockets, eyes to the floor. For once he seemed to lose the cocky demeanor and actually seemed like he was…sulking? It didn't last long though, his head slowly rising to look at me. "Wait a minute. How did you know about that?" He looked slightly amused, but mostly confused, and his eyes rested a moment too long on my lips, waiting for my answer. Why did this kid look at mouths so much? You're supposed to look at someone's eyes when you're talking to them for the love of god. It was like he had read the guidebook on ways to best intimidate me.

I peered at him from the corner of my eye, unable to resist the small triumphant smile that emerged on my face. I said nothing as I opened the door, and headed for the table Lydia was seated at. Scott and Stiles nearly collided with me, as they both made a mad dash to the table.

"Oh uh, were you gonna sit there?" Stiles asked, pointing to the seat. I nodded slowly, as Scott ushered me towards it.

"I think that's a great idea, Lydia is a great lab partner." Scott smiled, walking over to the lab station next to us.

"Yes, great, fine choice in seating, it's all yours." Stiles encouraged enthusiastically as both me and Lydia stared at them apprehensively.

"Boys," she sighed, shaking her head and going back to looking over her notes. The scraping of the metal chair legs against the linoleum tiles rang through my head, and I glanced over my shoulder to see Erica sitting down, glaring at the doorway where Isaac stood. She gave him a look of disapproval and rolled her eyes before pulling out the seat next to her and beckoning him over.

He sat down, his eyes still on me, his expression completely unreadable. Erica elbowed him in the side, and his gaze turned to Lydia. I noticed Allison walk in, eyeing me and then Scott curiously. She sat down on the other side of us, glancing around the classroom.

"Sorry Allison, did you want to sit with Lydia? I can move if you want." I leaned over towards her, pointing to the chair I was currently inhabiting. She opened her mouth to speak, but paused, her eyes focusing on something behind my head. I turned, as Scott smiled at me and waved. I blinked at him, turning my attention back to Allison.

"Uh, no. Thanks, but that's okay. You were there first." She smiled warmly at me, and I reciprocated it, nodding.

"Einstein once said, 'Two things are infinite. The universe and human stupidity, and I'm not sure about the universe.' I myself have encountered infinite stupidity. So, to combat the plague of ignorance in my class, you're going to combine efforts through a round of group experiments. Let's see if two heads are indeed better than one." The teacher paced the aisle, talking with a superiority complex so big I'm surprised he hadn't declared himself emperor of the classroom yet. He stopped in front of Stiles and Scott's lab table, a smug grin on his face. "Or in Mr. Stilinski's case, less than one."

"You may like Chemistry now. But Mr. Harris can change that." Lydia whispered, drawing her lips in as she scribbled a formula down at the bottom of her notebook page.

"Erica, take the first station. We'll start-" Hands shot up around the entire classroom, virtually every male student eager to volunteer themselves. A few girls even raised their hands, though they were much more subtle about it. "I didn't ask for volunteers. Put your hormonal little hands down." Mr. Harris spat, pronouncing each word carefully. He sighed dramatically, setting his sights on Scott. "Start with Mr. McCall. Alright, next two."

He continued to pair up the class and assign them to stations, as I crossed my fingers and counted my blessings when he paired me with Lydia first. I read the directions on the worksheet, and grabbed the test tube of blue solution, raising it to eye level and cocking my head to the side.

"How much of…What is this?" I turned to face Lydia, as her pen flew across the page doing calculations.

"Copper II sulfate." She answered robotically, reaching for another beaker. "50 milliliters. And then we need two teaspoons of alum…hold this." She pushed the beaker my way, before taking the test tube from me and pouring it in methodically to the white powder. "Now mix it for a minute." She directed, as I swished it around a few times.

"Are they always like this?" I nodded once towards the lab table where Stiles and Allison sat, Stiles knocking over a flask, spilling a green liquid onto Allison's shorts, and then again to wear Scott sat, frozen like a statue, but visibly fuming with frustration as Erica leaned towards him.

"You mean strange? Weird? Slightly spastic?" She looked back and forth between the boys and then back to me. "Yes. Always." I took the volume measurement of the solution down, before reaching for a dropper with a clear liquid inside.

"What about Allison? She seems to be acting…not like I expected she would. From what you told me last night anyway."

"Yeah, I don't know what's been with her lately. She's been hanging around Scott and Stiles too much I suppose." She huffed, unscrewing the cap on the bottle of potassium.

"They're a bit odd but they seem nice at least," I tried to reassure her, offering her the beaker. She took it and scoffed.

"Either way, _I'm_ her best friend and she's been completely blowing me off. But it's whatever," she said airily, dumping the contents of the potassium bottle into the beaker with a little more force than necessary. "She's got problems of her own." She shot a look over to where Erica and Scott sat, Erica's hand blatantly traveling up Scott's thigh. She grabbed the back of Scott's head and I looked over at Allison, who peered at them from the corner of her eye.

A bell rang at the front of the class as Mr. Harris called out to switch partners. I gathered up my notebook and pen as Allison shuffled over to us.

"Listen to me, okay? Don't talk to Erica or Isaac. Either of you." She glanced at me, keeping her voice low.

"Why?" Lydia asked, eyeing Allison dubiously.

"Just don't, okay?"

"Let's go girls, next station." Mr. Harris appeared behind us, ushering us along.

"Trust me, alright." Allison whispered over her shoulder, making her way over to another lab table. I moved to the table in front of Lydia's and surveyed the room, looking for any sign of a clock. Scott quickly sat down next to Lydia, relief washing over his face as he shot Stiles a look, who was making his way over to my table. Erica quickly grabbed his arm from where she sat, pulling him into the seat next to her as a six foot something giant clad in leather sat down next to me.

I stared ahead as Mr. Harris explained the next few steps of the experiment, despite feeling Isaac's eyes on me the entire time. I grabbed the beaker with the half-finished solution inside it, determined to stay quiet and not look at him.

"So you're not gonna tell me how you knew about my dad?" he cracked his neck, offering me another test tube. I took it silently from him, leaning down in my seat so I was eye level with the beaker as I carefully poured 2 mL of the solution into it. "The silent treatment? Really?" I looked over at him as his eyebrows shot up and went back to mixing the beaker with a glass stirring rod.

"Look, I don't know what kind of game you're playing, but I'm not interested." I rolled my eyes, marking down the color of the liquid in the beaker, and answering the few questions on the worksheet.

"In the game, or in me?" He cocked an eyebrow, one corner of his mouth drawing up into a crooked smirk. His blue eyes met mine and I felt as if someone had shocked me, electricity flowing into me from his simple gaze. I squinted and blinked, taken aback by his bluntness.

"That's exactly what I'm talking about," I shook my head, returning my attention to the worksheet. "If you're trying to intimidate me," I said, pronouncing each syllable slow and clear. "It's not gonna work." I faked the confidence we both knew I didn't have, refusing to give into him anyway.

"…You know," he sighed lazily, leaning forward onto the lab table as I reached for an empty test tube, wiping it clean with a paper towel. "I bet Casey would've been proud. With you finally standing up for yourself and everything."

The test tube slipped from my hand at the mention of her name, shattering on the table. _Casey? How did he know about Casey?_ I heard Mr. Harris give a deep sigh as he made his way over to us with a broom and dust pan.

_How did he know about Casey?_

"People, can we please keep the breakage to a _minimum_?" He shook his head exasperatedly, sweeping the broken glass into the pan and promptly tossing it into the _Broken Glass_ bin at the front of the class room.

_How did he know about Casey?_

I remained silent, turning to look him in the eyes. He reminded me of Derek when I first saw him because of how he was dressed, but sitting here in such close proximity, studying his mannerisms, his facial expressions, the diction of his voice when he spoke, putting emphasis on certain syllables as opposed to others. He didn't just look like Derek; he acted like him. _And he knew about Casey_. There was no way the two could be a coincidence. He smiled, leaning closer, so that our faces were inches apart.

"Two can play at that game," he challenged slowly, with a quick twitch of his eyebrow. He had to of known Derek. Maybe Derek was the leader of whatever cult him and Erica belonged to. He leaned back in his seat, watching, waiting for me to make the next move. Because this was all a game. A game. That's all it was. And I needed to keep a calm and clear head if I had the slightest prayer of winning.

And I was going to win.

I took a deep breath, composing myself and forcing all thoughts away from any bad memories associated with Casey. Instead, I focused on exactly what Isaac was talking about. All of those times people bullied me and kicked me down, all of those times Casey had come to my rescue. Even until the very end, she had saved me. She spent half of her life looking out for me, trying to teach me to stand up for myself. I wasn't going to let a few bitchy high schoolers ruin everything she had worked towards. Casey always told me to be brave, and it was about time I started listening.

I grinned at him, science experiment temporarily forgotten. "So what's your goal here exactly? To scare me? Surprise me? Make me cry?" I laughed, looking towards Mr. Harris, who sat at his desk engrossed in marking a paper repeatedly with a red pen. I thought about how he seemed like the kind of teacher who would give you a failing grade, marking the top with a red inked smiley face.

I turned back to Isaac, his blue eyes widening ever so slightly, his fingers idly drumming on the edge of the desk. "I've seen things _a lot_ worse than you. You may think you're the biggest, baddest wolf in town, but I have news for you. _I'm a monster_."

He barked out a laugh, his fingers halting the incessant tune they were tapping out. "Is that so?" He grinned, eyes alight with amusement. I swallowed hard, eyes narrowed at him as I nodded. "Well then I guess it's a good thing you don't have anything to be scared of." He picked up his pencil, inspecting the faint bite marks by the eraser as he clicked his tongue against his cheek. "It's Lydia who should be worried." All I saw was red, a mixture of fear and rage bubbling up inside of me. It was one thing when I thought this whole thing was just some kind of ploy to intimidate and embarrass the new girl. But now that he had blatantly threatened Lydia? Part of me wanted to scream, part of me wanted to run, and the vast majority of me wanted to punch him in the throat.

I settled for an in between, as I slammed the pencil down to the table, forcing his attention back to me. He smiled, his expression a mix of surprise and amusement and it made me want to slap the grin off of his face even more. I screwed my face up into a snarl, which only seemed to amuse him further.

"If you so much as touch her I'll-"

"You'll what?" he challenged, cocking an eyebrow as a loud ding sounded at the front of the classroom, signaling to switch lab partners. He stood up abruptly as I sat there slightly dumbfounded. He's right. What was I actually going to do? I may have been a murderer but it was by accident at best. I wasn't a cold blooded killer to be feared. "This isn't a game Ryan. This is real." His voice was low as he passed behind me, and I closed my eyes in defeat.

What was I thinking? My big show of defiance was smacking his pencil out of his hands. No wonder he found it so amusing. I was a joke. I felt my face grow hot with embarrassment and all I wanted was to be home in my own room, where I could curl up in the corner and just forget about everything. Frustration and shame overtook me and I could feel my hands shaking slightly in my lap as someone sat down in the chair next to me.

"Are you okay?" Scott placed a hand tentatively on my shoulder, like he thought if he applied too much pressure, I might break. I opened my eyes, turning my head towards him slowly, so that the world would cease its spinning. _So what was Isaac saying to you? _Scott's voice echoed through my head as various numbers of my own hands seemed to dance across the lab table. _I-I wish I could tell you but…but I don't…know…what's going on…_

"Ryan? Did he say something to you?"

I blinked hard, closing my hands and digging my nails into my palm. I let out a deep breath before sitting up straighter and turning my attention to him. "Why didn't you want me talking to Isaac?" I knew my eyes were probably still a little wider than they should have been, and I was still shaking a bit, but I tried my best to look authoritative.

"…Hm? I, I never said not to talk to Isaac. I was just curious as to what Isaac was talking to you about. You know you're new and Isaac is uh…he doesn't um…he's socially awkward and I just wanted to make sure he wasn't making you uncomfortable or anyt-"

"Save it." I held up my hand, placing the beaker full of solution onto the bunsen burner. "Allison told me and Lydia not to talk to Erica or Isaac, and whether you two are together or not, you still seemed to be joined at the hip." I quickly jotted down the answer to the last question on the worksheet before setting my pencil down and turning back to him. "Besides, you and Stiles have been acting hella weird all morning,"

"We're just weird." He quickly cut me off shaking his head, eyes wide.

"While I don't have a hard time believing that, I'm not dumb enough to believe that nothing's up. Does this have anything to do with what Isaac said about Lydia?"

"Lydia?!" Scott practically lunged at me in his seat, jumping forward so his face was closer to mine. "What did Isaac say about Lydia?" He urged, his voice low amongst the sounds of glassware being handled and burners being started. I gave him a look, my eyes flitting over to the table next to us where Isaac sat next to Lydia as she continued to stir the beaker.

"Nothing, just that Lydia should be worried." I felt my brow crease with worry as I looked from Lydia to Scott. "What's going on?" I turned my attention back to Lydia as Mr. Harris rang the bell.

"Time!"

"Scott. Tell me what's going on." I repeated, panic creeping into my voice.

"If you've catalyzed the reaction correctly, you should now be looking at a crystal." I turned off the burner and grabbed the tongs, quickly removing the beaker before handing it over to Scott to inspect. Allison was sitting as if she had a metal rod glued to her back, rigid as could be, as Erica snickered next to her, catching my eye. She smiled at me, looking more like the Cheshire Cat then the Cheshire Cat himself.

"Now, for the part of that last experiment I'm sure you'll all enjoy. You can eat it." I noticed Stiles holding up his beaker, his crystal looking mildly crusty and a shade of yellow. I wrinkled my nose and he looked up at me, shrugging. Suddenly his face grew serious, staring past me at Lydia as she took the crystal from Isaac, turning it over in her hand.

Poison? Was he going to poison her? He couldn't really be trying to. But poison seemed so serial killer-esque. I mean we were all just high school students. What could Lydia have done to piss off this cult/gang/sadist group?

Lydia brought the crystal to her lips, parting them as she placed it on her tongue.

"LYDIA!" Scott shouted, rising in his seat as the entire class fell silent. She turned around, giving him an annoyed look.

"What?" she snapped, swallowing whatever taste of the crystal she had had. I let out the breath I didn't realize I'd been holding, easing down in my chair. Lydia was fine. They hadn't poisoned her. Everything was okay.

But Scott didn't seem to have gotten the memo. He abruptly turned to stare at Erica, as the grin slid off of her face. I reached up, gently tugging on the back of Scott's shirt to get him to sit down so every student in the room could remove their eyes from us.

"Nothing," he mumbled, turning around and sitting back down in his seat. Lydia rolled her eyes, turning her attention back to the crystal as she took a bite of it. Scott shot Stiles a look from across the room as Stiles hung his head dejectedly. Scott quickly turned to the window, almost like a dog spotting a shiny object. I pressed my lips together, clasping my hands in front of me and dropping them into my lap as Mr. Harris collected our worksheets and the class erupted into hushed chatter.

As soon as class ended Scott, Stiles and Allison bolted, presumably to discuss whatever it was they were hiding. Isaac and Erica made a quick exit as well, probably off to go sacrifice the blood of a virgin to Lilith, Mother of Demons.

I shoved my things back into my bag as I waited for Lydia and we walked to our next class together. That's how the rest of the day went basically. Lydia walked me to any class we didn't have together, with the same clear instructions to meet back at her locker afterwards to repeat the process. Towards the end of the day she finally took me on a proper tour of the school, since we both had a free period. I nodded and yessed her to death when she would point something out and I think by the end of the tour she felt that I had a pretty good idea of how to navigate my way around. I didn't, actually. But she had a guidance appointment and I was staying as far away from the guidance office as possible, so I assured her that I'd be just fine on my own.

Spoiler alert: I was not.

My goal was the library. My final destination? After wandering through many different hallways, all of which looked the same?

Trial 1: the pool.

Trial 2: the cafeteria.

Trial 3: the music room (Which is surprisingly large).

I groaned, spinning in a circle as students flocked in and out of the room, grabbing instruments and stands and folders. I dropped my bag on one of the risers, sinking down with my head in my hands. I felt a migraine coming on, along with a bunch of unwanted memories and nothing to distract me from them.

"Are you okay?" I separated my fingers, peeking through them to see a boy with dark hair and tan skin, Jackson's best friend.

"Me? Yeah. Yeah! I'm fine. Why wouldn't I be?" I sat up straighter, giving him a smile.

"Beeecause you're sitting by yourself in the music room and you look like you're about to start slamming your head against the piano." He laughed, putting his trombone back into its case.

"…Against the piano? I didn't think of that but that doesn't sound like a bad idea…" I mumbled, eyeing the instrument with promise.

"Rough day?" he asked, sliding his trombone case into one of the cubby's along the wall with the name Danny Mahealani written in block letters underneath it.

"I've had worse." Images of the lake flash through my head. Waking up the next day in the hospital, alone and terrified, needles and tubes sticking out of my arms. Screaming until someone came and disconnected me from them all. Finding Casey in the bed in the next room, her skin blue, her arms and mouth bloodied.

"That sounds like it comes with a tragic backstory that you don't feel like sharing." I snapped my head up, studying the biggest prick in school's best friend. Maybe he wasn't as bad as Jackson after all. I gave him a small smile, nodding.

"Wow, you're good."

"Actually, my name's Danny." He gave me a goofy grin as he held out his hand and I graciously accepted it as he pulled me to my feet.

"Well I'm Ryan," I curtsied, picking up my bag. "And I'm lost. Can you tell me how to get to the library?"

"Yeah sure, I'm headed over there now to meet my friend Jackson." I couldn't contain my eyeroll and he laughed, opening the door for me. "He's not as bad as he seems."

"Oh so you mean he's not a huge douchebag all of the time?"

"Nah, not all the time. Just like, 75% of the time." I laughed as Danny led us down a hallway I was sure I had walked down three times that afternoon, and pushed the door to the library open. "Seriously though. It's mostly just an act. Mostly." Jackson waved him over from the table he sat at, shooting me a glare that I assumed was supposed to make me quake in my boots. Instead I smiled cheerfully, waving at him.

"Well thank you for your guidance." I bowed my head, making my way over to an empty table in the corner.

"Don't be a stranger." He threw a wave over his shoulder at me. I sat down, digging out my notebook and my pencil, and began doodling all over the blank page in front of me. It helped calm me down a bit as I continuously drew halves of faces because I could never quite get the whole face to look right, or just eyes or just hands because they were the only real features I was good at drawing. A shiver ran down my spine and I coughed, drawing my hand up to cover my mouth. I cleared my throat, reaching for my pen again when a splotch of bright red caught my eye.

I lifted my hand to my face, squinting at it. _Blood_. Looking up, I took note of my surroundings. Still in the library. Danny sat with Jackson and another boy a few tables away. No, this wasn't another hallucination. But was I really coughing up _blood_ now?

_No of course not. You're just losing your mind. _I lifted my eyes, though I knew no one had spoken. Every time I heard Casey's voice I hoped by some miracle that it would be real. That she was alive, that she had survived somehow and had found me. But it was never the case. It couldn't be the case. Because she was dead. And it was my fault.

I looked back at my hand and sure enough there was nothing there. No angry smear of red obstructing the pale skin of my arm.

_I thought you had accepted the fact that you were crazy, Ryan. You can't fight this. This is who you are now._

"No," I mumbled, my eyes fluttering shut.

_You can't ever be normal._

"No,"

_I'm dead Ryan, how can you try and live a normal life without me?_

"No!" I gasped, opening my eyes.

"Ryan?" Lydia stood in front of me, Stiles right behind her. She hesitantly grabbed the back of the chair across from me, pulling it out slowly. "Mind if I join you?"

"No, no, go ahead." I rubbed at my eyes violently, in hopes of somehow quieting the constant chaos in my head.

"I'm just gonna…yeah." Stiles said, sliding out a chair for himself and sitting down next to me. "So uh…who were you uh…muttering no to exactly?" He looked between Lydia and myself a few times, before scratching at the back of his head.

"Stiles," Lydia warned, shooting him an icy glare.

"It's fine. I have Post Traumatic Stress Disorder." I kept my eyes on my hands as I toyed with my fingers nervously. This was the part I hated. The barrage of questions, the looks of pity, the subtly not-so-subtle steps back that people take, as if PTSD might be contagious. But Stiles didn't do any of that.

Instead he awkwardly reached for my hands, and then retracted, and then reached again, finally setting his own on top of mine, patting them gently. I looked up at him and he gave me a tight smile, nodding so slowly I wasn't sure he actually _was_. He looked at me through pained brown eyes, eyes that had seen their share of horrific and sorrowful things. They reminded me of my own. I flipped my hand over, giving his a squeeze before drawing them back into my lap. His brow creased as he looked at me confused, but shot me a smile anyways. I returned it, giving him a curt nod as Lydia looked between the two of us with an eyebrow raised.

"Okay I don't know what just happened, but this whole nerd bonding thing is going to have to wait." She stood up, tossing her hair over her shoulder. "We're gonna be late for class."

"Right, class, yeah." Stiles stood up quickly, eager to fall in line behind Lydia as she made her way out of the library, knocking my pen and notebook off of the table in the process. "Oh-oh my god, I am so sorry, here let me get that for you," he bent down handing me my notebook and knocking my pen further into one of the library aisles.

"Aaaaand you're being weird again. It's fine Stiles. I'm mentally ill, not handicapped." I rolled my eyes, picking up my bag and making my way through the library, searching the floor for the only pencil I happened to bring to school today.

"Looking for something?" Erica stood next to Isaac, leaning against the bookshelf, pencil in hand. I sighed heavily, before throwing my hand out.

"Can I just have it? I'm gonna be late."

"Is that…is that my pencil?" Isaac's mouth quipped into a smirk as he took the pencil from Erica, inspecting the faint bite marks on the end of it. I bit my lip hard, mentally cursing myself for being dumb enough to accidentally take the wrong pencil in Chemistry. "Are you stalking me?" he purred, bending down until he was eye level with me. I leaned forward, snatching the pencil from his grip.

"Only to kill you in your sleep." I assured sweetly, drawing my lips into an innocent grin. Erica choked out a laugh as I turned on my heels marching out of the library with my head held high.

I may have lacked confidence in just about everything about myself, but that didn't mean I could fake my ass off. It was almost as if Isaac had read my personal file on every insecurity I had ever had, and was using it against me. With my lack of romantic and sexual experience pointedly being his main plan of attack apparently.

I had had enough of the mind games. I wasn't even playing on an even field. My mind was half of my opponent.

* * *

**A/N: Phew! About time! Sorry for the wait guys!**

**So originally I hadn't planned on cutting this chapter here, but it was getting kind of long so I decided that here was a good a place as any to split it. I had SUCH bad writer's block while writing this chapter so I'm super sorry if it's not as good as my other ones heh. Venomous is such a confusing episode, especially that Chemistry scene jesus. I hope everything came out alright though. :]**

**A huge thank you to everyone who has been following and favoriting this story, and thank you to emele807, Janedoee7, The One Who Is All, maddysavage, TameTheGhosts, LionHeartMisfit, BriancyyD, Moonyong98, blahicantthinkofaname, and MessintheMirror for the lovely reviews!**

**Also, a very special thank you to my lovely friend BrittWitt16, who was so kind as to promo me in her Author's Note in her very popular Stiles/OC story "Right Beside You." :] Also, if you guys are interested, the two of us do Teen Wolf reaction videos which is basically us filming ourselves watch the show live. It's pretty entertaining and you can find those under Britt's youtube channel which is under the same name as her ff account (BrittWitt16).**

**But yeah, so in honor of Teen Wolf premiering this past Monday, and American Horror Story premiering tonight (I use Taissa Farmiga as my face claim for Ryan), here is my update! Please keep the reviews coming and let me know what you think!**


	7. Monster

I spent my last class of the day alone, chewing on my lip and playing with the sleeves of my sweater the entire time. There wasn't a single person I even recognized, nonetheless could talk to. Except for the one kid who may or may not have been sitting with Jackson and Danny. Then again, with my track record for seeing things that aren't really there, who knew?

The good thing about taking a photography class for my last period was the fact that it was essentially a free period. The teacher, Ms. Harmon, talked for about ten minutes to brief the class on the kind of assignment we should be working on and then came over to talk to me about what kind of camera I would need for the class, a conversation which lasted approximately 2.47 minutes. Then she quietly settled back into her seat and began reading a book, black rimmed glasses perched on the crook of her nose, a lock of mousy brown hair tucked behind one ear.

I spent a good portion of the class observing the other students. I had always had an inclination for people watching; I found it fascinating how so many human beings could exist, and be so extraordinarily different from one another. I loved to watch how people behaved in certain situations; who had steady hands, whose were a bit shakier. Who could find beauty in everything, as opposed to those who were struggling to find something in the classroom worthy of being captured on their film.

Someone moved past me, brushing against my arm as they went by and I felt a chill come over me, invading me from the inside out. I pulled the sleeves of my sweater tight over my hands, cradling my arms against my chest. I stifled a yawn, the events of the day weighing heavily on me in my lull of activity. I didn't want to think about any of it, I just wanted to go home and try to sleep. I kept my eyes on the clock, watching the second hand tick by with longing, gently folding my arms on the desk and lying my head atop them.

I felt my eyelids drooping but lacked the energy and care to attempt to keep them open. I sighed, taking a few deep breaths and letting myself enjoy the quiet nothingness behind my eyes. When I finally opened them, the classroom was empty, even the teacher gone. I glanced at the clock on the wall in a bit of a panic, knocking my books to the ground.

2:37.

School had been over for more than a half hour. Why hadn't anyone woken me? I stretched my legs out in front of me, letting my head fall back and my eyes flutter shut once more. The cons of having no friends in class I suppose. I gathered my books up, stuffing them into my bag, and made my way out of school, looking around for any sign of my parent's car.

The place was like a ghost town. The parking lot was completely empty and I half expected a tumble weed to blow across it. A gust of wind blew by, blowing my hair into my mouth as I turned in a circle, surveying my surroundings. Did I ever even tell my parents to pick me up after school today? I angrily blew the hair out of my mouth, groaning as I hiked my bag up higher on my shoulder and began walking. I didn't live too far away from the school.

I think.

About four blocks into my walk I came to an intersection and that was when I realized that I actually had no idea how to get to my house from the school.

"Great," I muttered, pulling my phone from my pocket to punch my address into the GPS. It began loading for a minute, the map appearing gradually across the screen. It beeped loudly and then the screen went black, a picture of an empty battery alighting it. "Are you kidding me?!" I threw the phone angrily to the ground, wincing when I heard the crack it made against the pavement. I let my bag fall off my shoulder as I sat down on the curb, pulling my knees up to my chest. Fuck first days of school.

I heard an engine rev and looked up to see a black Camaro sitting at the stop sign. The window rolled down, and Isaac sat in front of the steering wheel, smiling down at me.

"Need a ride?" he draped one arm across the steering wheel, as he ran his hand through his hair.

"Not from you." I smiled up at him politely, before going back to inspecting my nails.

"Is that your phone?" He set his sights on the scattered pieces of plastic adorning the sidewalk a few feet away from me. I crawled over to it, collecting the pieces and shoving them haphazardly into the side pocket of my backpack.

"Nope." I said, popping the 'p' as I moved on to playing with the strings on my bag.

"You're making this a lot more difficult than it needs to be. Just get in the car, I'll drive you home."

"Sorry, I don't get into cars with creepy strangers." I looked up at him, mock disappointment splayed across my face. "You didn't even offer me candy."

"I could offer you sexual favors." He cocked an eyebrow subtly gesturing to his dick. I rolled my eyes, standing up as I shrugged my backpack on again.

"And that is precisely why I'm not getting in the car. Good afternoon Mr. Lahey." I took a few steps backward, bowing my head at him, before turning around and randomly picking a direction. Sitting on the curb wasn't going to get me home anyway. I heard a car engine and glanced over my shoulder, to see the Camaro creeping towards me. I shook my head, turning back around. "Are you seriously following me right now?"

"If you won't get in the car then I'll just follow you home."

"Where are the cops in this town?" I peered at him from the corner of my eye, as he rolled his eyes at me.

"Ask your new buddy Stiles. His dad's the sheriff."

"Noted."

"Will you just get in the car?" he barked, clearly exasperated. I stopped in my tracks, turning to face his car as he slammed on the brakes. Which, at the speed he was going, was entirely unnecessary.

"Why do you care so much?" He let out a frustrated sigh, looking down at my feet.

"Because I was a jerk to bring up Casey today okay? I was kind of a jerk to you all day so…I figured I'd try to make it up to you."

I eyed him warily before he sighed again, reaching over to push open the passenger side door. "Just get in the car Ryan. I'll take you home, I promise." I stared down at my feet for a second, chewing on my lip before deciding that if he turned out to be some psycho killer I could probably take him. I just really didn't want to walk around aimlessly for the next three hours, and if I told him my address he would probably know where I lived anyway.

I made my way over to the car, sliding in and positioning my bag at my feet before slamming the door shut. Isaac winced, turning on the radio.

"Easy with the doors."

"Sorry, you didn't seem like the type to be consciously concerned about your car's well-being."

"I drive a Camaro," He stated incredulously, and I half nodded. "So which way am I going?" I pursed my lips, staring uncomfortably down at my hands in my lap. I felt him staring at me for a while, before turning his attention back to the road. "…You don't know, do you?"

"Not…exactly…"

"Good, good."

"I know my address!" I defended stubbornly, crossing my arms over my chest. He laughed, though not maliciously like I expected.

"It's fine, don't get so huffy. Where do you live?"

"500 Pine Street."

"Okay then, to Pine Street we go." He reached over to ruffle my hair so quickly I didn't know what was happening. I sat there stunned for a moment before peering at him with my eyebrows drawn together. How did he go from making sexual innuendos all day, to half threats, to…this? Maybe I wasn't the only one in Beacon Hills with some mental issues.

The ride to my house was short and quiet, with both of us staying silent as the radio played on. He turned onto my street and I pointed out which house was mine as he turned into our driveway.

"Well, thanks." I turned to him with every intention of looking him in the eyes, but as soon as they met mine I felt awkward and self-conscious, drawing my lips in like a child and looking to either side of his face. "Uh yeah. Thanks." I nodded, grabbing my bag and reaching for the handle on the door.

"Wait," he caught my arm, and I froze, hand still resting on the door. I turned slowly back to him, my eyebrows raised in a question. His hand reached out, brushing a piece of hair behind my ear and trailing his fingers down my cheek, and my eyes fluttered closed on instinct. He drew his hand back and I felt a burning sensation where he had touched me. I opened my eyes and tried to speak, but found my voice stuck in my throat.

"Bye." He smiled warmly at me and I silently backed out of the car, a look of dumbfounded confusion plastered on my face. "Oh, and Ryan?" I carefully closed the door, bending down to look at him through the window.

"Yeah?"

"Be careful on the nights of a full moon, okay?"

"Why? Because of the Lunar effect?" I laughed, arching an eyebrow. I expected him to laugh too, but I was met only with silence and a slightly confused expression. "You know, that old belief that the full moon brings out the worst in people? That there's more violence, more suicides, more accidents, just generally more aggression on nights of a full moon?" He parted his lips as if he was going to say something, but instead only cocked his head slightly, looking at me interested. "You've never heard of that? People used to think the full moon caused mental illness and strange behaviors and stuff. They say that hospitals are always busier on nights of a full moon." He looked at me seriously for a moment before giving a short laugh and putting his car back into drive.

"Interesting. Well, have a good day." He slammed his foot on the gas, peeling out of my driveway before I even had a chance to ask what he was talking about it.

"Well that was…weird." I muttered to myself, before making my way up the steps to the front door. I unzipped my backpack to look for my keys when I noticed that the door was open a crack.

"Mom?" I opened the door all the way, staring at the seemingly empty house before me. "Dad?" I took a step inside but heard nothing. Hm. Both of their cars were here. I closed the door and dropped my bag onto the table in front of the mirror in the hallway. Something felt off, but I couldn't put my finger on it. I felt my hair fall out from behind my ear and quickly pushed it back, the feel of Isaac's fingers on my face still lingering.

But why did that matter? He may have been acting nicer than he was at school, but it was still hella weird. And what the hell was that shit about being careful on a full moon? I looked up to check my hair in the mirror, and froze. My reflection wasn't there. It just…it was just gone. I frantically got closer to it, pressing my hand to the cool glass, but I saw nothing. The mirror reflected the entire room back, but it was as if I wasn't standing less than three feet away from it. I felt my heart rate pick up, my breathing coming in quicker and heavier bursts.

"No, no no no." I ran into the kitchen, reaching for the metal toaster sitting on the counter. I bit my lip and took a chance, glancing at the mirrored surface. The toaster fell from my hands as again, I saw nothing. "What's happening to me," I choked out, as if saying it would magically give me the answer. I heard a faint buzzing sound coming from upstairs, and suddenly I felt my entire body grow hot. Orange dotted my vision and I looked down, as flames spread from the toaster lying on the ground. I screamed, running out of the kitchen and towards the buzzing noise. _This is how you get killed in horror movies_, was all my mind kept telling me, but my body kept moving towards it, as smoke filled the room around me. I could still breathe though. Why could I still breathe? I should be smelling the ashes and suffocating in smoke, but I'm…not? When I finally reached the top of the stairs, the smoke had ceased, as if it was trapped downstairs for some reason. _Where the hell were my parents?_

I heard the buzzing again, even louder than before, coming from my bedroom. I made my way over to the door, passing by the mirror in the hallway. I knew I wouldn't see myself but I checked anyway, surprising myself when I did in fact see my silhouette. I slowly approached the mirror, staring at myself and trying to decipher what was wrong now. It wasn't until my gaze travelled up to my eyes that I realized it. I stared at my reflection, and blue eyes stared back at me.

My eyes weren't blue. They were brown. I felt my eyes widen and my hands went to my face, as the buzzing grew louder. My eyes started to glow, burning a bright electric blue and I quickly backed away from the mirror, my back against my door. The door seemed to hum with an electric current, the buzzing so strong I wondered if it would knock the door down. I turned slowly, keeping my hand on the doorknob. Taking a deep breath, I opened the door only to be met with a blinding white light and a noise that sounded oddly like a school bell ringing.

"Hey. Hey!" My head shot up, a boy with a camera sitting in the desk across from me. I looked around me, noticing that I was still in the photography classroom, half of the class gathering up their books and making their way out, while the other half hung back, chatting with friends or finishing up their projects.

A dream. It was all just a dream.

"Are you narcoleptic too?" the boy's voice brought my attention back to him, as he laughed at what was apparently his joke.

"Too?" I raised my eyebrow, getting my notebooks together.

"Yeah, on top of the PTSD." I shot him a look that was supposed to say 'how the fuck do you know about that' and which he interpreted as 'you're so funny please say more'. "A PTSD patient with narcolepsy, wouldn't that be a show." He chuckled to himself and I stood up abruptly, hiking my bag over my shoulder.

"That's not funny. Neither are you. I'm leaving now."

"Wait, wait!" he made a gesture to grab my arm, but thought better of it after I shot him a glare. "You're friends with Allison, right?" I had exchanged a total of like, fifteen words with her all day, and none were expressive enough for me to be able to gauge whether she thought of me as a friend or not. But this kid was beyond irritating and there was something about his behavior that unsettled me. I didn't like him. Not one bit.

"Yep." I gave a curt nod, inching my way closer to the door.

"Do you…she's not…I'm Matt."

"Good to know. Bye." I nodded again, spinning on my heels and heading out of the classroom. He was right behind me though, struggling to get his backpack over his shoulder.

"Wait, no. Allison's not…currently dating anyone…right?"

"Who would she be dating?" I quirked an eyebrow, refusing to look at him.

"I don't know. I know her and McCall were a thing. But I heard that they broke up."

"Then they're broken up." I reached my locker, quickly turning the dial and popping the door open.

"Yeah but, are they definitely broken up or-"

"Look," I grabbed my textbook and slammed the locker door shut, making him jump. "Today was my first day of school here. I have a total of one and a half friends. I know even less than you do. Now if you don't mind, I'm going home in attempts to get my life back on track. Or sleep. Probably sleep. Bye." I left him standing there, slightly shell shocked, but honestly I'm not sure what he expected. Now which way to the exit?

I saw Matt still idling towards my left so I made an executive decision to make a right. I saw Stiles pulling Lydia out of what I think was the library, followed closely by Allison and Jackson, as Lydia seemed to be sulking. She ripped her arm away from Stiles, clearly unhappy with being herded out of her comfort zone.

"If we're doing a study group, why don't we just stay in the library?"

"…Because we're meeting up with somebody else!"

"Really? Like who?" Lydia halted, and the trio looked at each other nervously. Well, Allison and Stiles did, anyway. Jackson just scowled.

"Uhh…" Stiles stammered, looking around frantically. He spotted me and I swear I saw a lightbulb above his head turn on. "Ryan!" he shouted, pointing at me, before nodding at Allison enthusiastically.

"Uh right! Ryan's coming with us!" Allison chimed in, smiling at me.

"Ryan's coming where?" I repeated, eyeing them all skeptically as Stiles grabbed the arm of my sweater, pulling me over to them.

"With us! To study! For school!"

"Oh, oh good, I thought we might be studying for basket weaving. Dodged that bullet." I stated dryly, as everyone ignored me aside from Stiles, who gave me a reproachful look.

"Hmm. Well why didn't she just meet us in the library?" Lydia shot Stiles an incredulous look, before raising an eyebrow at me. I shrugged at her, hands up in defense.

"Oh, that would've been a great idea!" Stiles exclaimed, pushing Lydia and I forward. "Too late."

"Okay, hold on-" Lydia stopped again, and I looked at her with wide, confused eyes.

"Lydia, shut up and walk." Jackson hissed through clenched teeth, pushing her through the exit and towards the blue jeep sitting in the parking lot. He yanked the back door open as Stiles winced, climbing into the driver's seat.

"Easy with the doors!" he called, turning his key in the ignition. Allison quickly hopped into the passenger seat and Jackson motioned for me to climb into the back first. Lydia followed me, Jackson climbing in and slamming the door behind him to make a point.

"DOORS!" Stiles shouted, backing out of the parking spot and cutting off three cars in his mad dash out of the parking lot. The ride was short and I held on to the door handle the entire time, since Stiles had seemed to decide he was going to try and make a ten minute drive into a three minute drive. Everyone remained relatively quiet, the only person to attempt conversing being Stiles, in an ever so eloquent manner.

"So…" he started, glancing back at Lydia, Jackson and I.

"No." the three of us deadpanned in unison.

"CAR!" Allison shouted, pointing towards the windshield and pulling the steering wheel towards her. There was a loud honking sound as I saw my life flash before my eyes for the second time of my existence, and let me tell you, it is never a fun time. Stiles made a left and swerved, pulling up alongside the curb neatly. It was so impressive it almost made up for the fact he had previously almost killed us all. Almost.

"Where _the hell_ did you get your license?" I sputtered, falling out of the car and crossing myself.

"_Where did you get your license_." Stiles mocked me as if he were a five year old and I rolled my eyes, turning to glance at Lydia as she hesitantly got out of the car. We stood in front of a large green house with white trim and a wraparound porch, one of the nicer houses on the block. Though they were all nice houses. No one had informed me when my parents decided to move to Beacon Hills that it was full of rich kids.

"If we're studying at Scott's house then…where's Scott?" Lydia huffed, marching up the steps, Stiles close behind.

"Meeting us here. I think." He smiled, nodding at Lydia. "I hope." I began dragging my feet, feeling suddenly uncomfortable in the situation. Why had I just let them drag me over to Scott's house? The only one I was really friends with was Lydia. And even so, we had only been friends for like, a day. Every minute of this day seemed like a never ending torture, full of awkward and confusing encounters.

And why was Jackson here? Lydia may have been telling everyone she was over him, but with the look on her face whenever he spoke to her, no matter how volatile his words were, it was obvious she still had feelings for him. But he seemed completely indifferent towards her, as if she could burn at the stake and instead of being sad about it, he'd throw a party and offer to clear away her remains.

"Thanks for doing this." Allison whispered, and I looked up, wondering whether or not she was talking to me.

"I need to talk to her anyway." Jackson answered, walking through the door. I sighed, following them, scuffing the toes of my boots on the ground. The interior of the house was just as nice as the exterior, and I spun around in the foyer getting a good look at the place. I heard the door lock behind me. Multiple times. I glanced over my shoulder to see Lydia, staring at Stiles with her eyebrows raised. He looked to Jackson for some kind of help, to which he did not receive, and turned back to Lydia, the gears in his head turning.

"Uh…there's been a few break ins around the neighborhood." He nodded, glancing around at the four of us. We all nodded slightly, awkwardly standing there, looking everywhere but at each other. Stiles broke the paralytic silence first, grabbing a chair from next to the staircase and propping it up against the door handle.

This time I was the one to raise my eyebrows, gesturing to the chair with narrowed eyes.

"…And a murder." Stiles stated, eyes wide as Allison tried not to laugh and Jackson tried not to pummel anyone. "Yeah it was bad."

"Uh huh." I nodded once, slowly, before glancing over at Lydia. "So, what are we studying?"

"We could work on Economics if you want." She gave me a smile and I instantly felt more comfortable, the huge knot in my stomach untying ever so slightly. Allison cleared her throat and Jackson gave an annoyed sigh, rolling his eyes before turning to Lydia.

"Lydia, follow me." He croaked, his voice sounding strangled, like it was paining him to talk to her civilly. I rolled my own eyes, shaking my head. "I need to talk to you for a minute." Lydia stared at him, her hazel eyes narrowing in suspicion. She sighed dramatically, following him up the stairs.

"Seriously? What is going on with everyone?"

They disappeared and I stood there as Allison and Stiles seemed as if they were trying to discover the secrets to telepathy.

"So…Economics?" I tried, waving my textbook in front of me. Stiles bolted to the window by the door, peeking out of the curtain.

"Ugh, we have bigger problems." He turned back to face us, a panicked look crossing his face.

"Bigger than the Economics midterm tomorrow?" I tried to laugh but it died in my throat as Allison dug through her bag pulling out a crossbow.

"Much bigger." Allison replied, as I audibly swallowed, taking a step back. "Stiles, give me your phone."

"Why?" He asked, already digging the small black contraption out of his pocket and tossing it to her, peering out the window again. The sun was setting, casting a dark shadow over the house, giving off eerie vibes.

"I'm calling Scott." Stiles checked the window yet again, slamming the curtain shut quickly this time.

"Yeah, yeah yeah you should do that." He nodded, fear creeping into his voice.

"Okay, _what_ is going on?" I fumed, marching over to the curtain and drawing it open. Stiles yanked it shut immediately but not before I saw them. Four of them, all dressed in leather, standing across the street like something out of a cheesy vampire movie. Two of them I recognized, Isaac and Erica, and while I wasn't particularly surprised, there was a pit of disappointment in my stomach. I'm not sure why. They had been stalking and threatening me all day. What did I honestly expect? "Who's out there?" I turned to Stiles, who looked from Allison to me. She pursed her lips for a minute, sighing and nodding. "_Who is out there_." I repeated. It was more of a command then a question at this point.

"You met Isaac and Erica today. What about Boyd?" I shook my head, trying to get another look out of the window. Stiles blocked me, shaking his head. "He was the big one in leather."

"Oh that narrows it down." I retorted dryly, as I heard Allison muttering into the receiver of Stiles's phone.

"Hey, I'd appreciate it if you'd tone down the sass."

"Maybe I'd tone down the sass if I got some explanations." I offered, and I could swear I saw Stiles's eye twitch with annoyance.

"Anyway," he continued, turning back to the window. "Boyd is the one standing between Erica and Derek. Derek is the one on the end, real mean looking guy, much too old to be hanging out with high schoolers and yet there he is, trying to intimidate us all with his big fancy car and his endless supply of leather jackets."

"Derek?" I felt my head swim, Stiles suddenly multiplying before my eyes.

"Yeah, Derek Hale. He's-woah, hey. You okay?" I watched the look on Stiles's face turn from fear to worry, extending a hand towards me.

"What's Derek doing here?"

"Woah, wait, you know Derek?" I think I managed a nod, suddenly feeling like if I kept my eyes open any longer I might vomit.

"Stiles, what's happening?" Allison's voice echoed from my right, and I reached my arm out for something to steady myself on.

"I think she's having a panic attack. Hey, hey Ryan, hey, come on. You're okay. It's okay." I felt hands on my shoulders, and hands on my arms, as Stiles and Allison collectively tried to calm me down.

"Hey," Allison leaned down in front of me as I opened my eyes, trying to steady my breathing. "We're not going to let him hurt you, okay? You're safe." She urged, as Stiles led me towards the stairs.

"Why don't you go check on Lydia and Jackson. Maybe throw some water on your face. You'll feel better." I nodded silently, walking slowly up the stairs, the world still spinning violently around me.

I had guessed that the two of them knew Derek, so why did I feel as if my life had come crashing down around me for what seemed like the fifth time that day?

_Derek's here. Derek's here. Casey. Derek. Casey. Casey._

I found the bathroom after a few minor stumbles, barreling through the door and gripping the sink with both hands. When I looked in the mirror I was half afraid I wouldn't see anything.

What I did see horrified me.

"You killed her." Avery's chestnut eyes bore into mine, and I covered my mouth to muffle my gasp. Her face was streaked with makeup, her eyes red from crying. Her voice was calm though, accusatory and strong.

"No," I shook my head, a sob breaking free of my mouth. "No, this isn't real." I slammed my eyes shut, willing my hallucination away. I should have known it wasn't that simple though. I opened my eyes slowly, and there she was. No longer my own reflection, but standing behind it.

"Oh I'm real. And you did, you killed her." Avery nodded sadly at me, and I looked down, focusing only on my hands. I turned the faucet on splashing my face with the water. "Why did you murder my sister?" her voice was angry this time, and sounded as if she was yelling into my ear. I jumped, another sob racking my body.

"I DIDN'T KILL HER!" I screamed, so loud I thought I popped my eardrums. Everything went silent for a moment, the continuous beating of my heart that had been hammering in my ear since the mention of Derek's name, the wheezing of my lungs as I struggled for enough air, the rush of water from the faucet. I heard nothing. I looked back at my reflection, Avery silent behind my figure. "It was an accident." I exhaled, and Avery's image shattered away, as I regained my hearing.

I let myself sink to the ground, relieved that I could breathe evenly again. I heard a kind of ringing that sounded far away, and I reached up to turn the faucet off, sitting back down against the wall and trying to stay perfectly still. The sound got louder, sounding less like ringing and more like a gust of wind howling. I stood up slowly, walking out into the hallway, my head cocking to the side as my ears strained to listen. I heard voices. But none of my past. These voices were from the present.

"What are we supposed to do?" Allison's voice sailed up, as if through the floor, sounding strained and near hysterics. I got down on all fours, pressing my ear against the wood flooring. "They're not here to scare us, okay? They're here to kill Lydia." She pronounced each word carefully, as if to emphasize the weight they held. My heart rate picked up as I processed what I had heard, what I had been hearing the whole day.

_You're that girl who was with Lydia this morning aren't you? Are you like, her cousin or something? You guys don't really look that much alike. Did she-did she say anything to you? About me? Or about any nightly urges she's been having?_

_Some friends you're better off without. Just something to think about._

_Lydia Martin is not the kind of friend you want, or need. Trust me._

_It's Lydia who should be worried._

I sat there in a trance, my body frozen as my mind raced. Something was up with Lydia. The reason she was in the guidance office, the hallucinations she had been having, the apparent reason Derek and his crew of teeny boppers wanted her…dead? It all had to be connected. I didn't know how, I just knew that it was. Beacon Hills really did seem to be a Beacon for the crazies. I mentally reminded myself to ask my parents why they decided to move us here, of all places. Did it advertise to specialize in treating the clinically insane or something?

My body trembled, as wave after wave of fear rocked through me. Did it ever end? Lately I had been afraid of everything. Afraid to be awake because of the hallucinations, afraid to sleep because of the nightmares. There was no escape for me, no peace. I was sick of being terrified all of the time. I needed to be brave.

"Look, they don't think we're gonna fight. So if one of them gets hit, I guarantee they'll take off." Stiles's voice drifted up towards me again, snapping me back to reality. "So just shoot one of them."

"Which one?"

"Uh…Derek. Yeah, shoot him. Preferably in the head." I stood up, making my way over to the staircase.

"Scott was able to catch an arrow, Derek definitely can." What the hell did that mean? Did they use Scott for target practice or something?

"Okay, uh…just shoot one of the other three then."

"You mean two." I reached the top of the stairs cautiously, watching as Allison and Stiles were positioned on each side of the door, Allison peering out the window.

"_I mean three_." Stiles emphasized, drawing back the curtain hastily and looking out. "Where the hell is Isaac?!" Allisons breathing grew heavier, sniffling as she took a step back, raising her crossbow to the window. I ran down the stairs, making my way over to the two of them, and then all at once the world seemed to collapse.

I heard the whoosing sound of wind again, as if a bird had just flew past me, and I clamped my hands over my ears, trying to ward off the sudden headache I felt coming on. The next thing I knew, Isaac was there, shoving both Allison and Stiles to the ground in a span of less than ten seconds. I felt the wail leave my throat before I was even aware I was screaming.

"Guys!"

"Ryan!" Stiles gasped as he flipped himself over on his back, crawling backward on the ground as Isaac towered over him. He turned to face me, and I felt my heart drop into my stomach. His eyes glowed yellow, and he smiled, brandishing two rows of sharpened fangs. "Ryan, run!" Stiles shouted as Isaac took a step towards me, slow and effortless, as if he knew he had all the time in the world.

"Who's the monster now?" he narrowed his eyes, turning his head to the side slightly. He grinned, light glinting off of his teeth making him look even more menacingly dangerous.

Fear caught me in its claws and refused to let go, as I stood as still as a statue, my feet planted on the ground as if the Earth itself was holding me there. It wasn't the shock of seeing a normal albeit intimidating boy suddenly grow claws, fangs, and glowing eyes. But it was the shock of seeing it _again_. Because I had most definitely seen this before. Two years ago. At Casey's house. The first time I had seen Derek.

_But that wasn't the only time._ A voice echoed through my head.

My past came rushing back to me, a blur of images, sleeping over Casey's house one night, the moon shining in through the big bay windows of her room, waking during the middle of the night after hearing a crash, being urged back to sleep by Avery, waking to find Casey missing, dreaming of those glowing yellow eyes and sharpened teeth that caught the moonlight. I felt my body go limp as the floor approached me in what felt like slow motion.

"Run!" Stiles's voice caught up to me just as I was about to slam into the ground. I shot my arms out, catching myself at the last possible second, scrambling on all fours before I was able to pick myself back up and take off running through the first hallway I saw. I made a left and arrived in the kitchen.

_What to do, what to do._ I heard another crash, the sound of a vase shattering, and I immediately started throwing open cabinets, looking for any pots or pans that I could use in self-defense. However, all I came up with was a bunch of spices and seasonings, and I didn't think Isaac's kryptonite was cinnamon. I spun frantically, trying to think of something, anything that I could use. _He could be killing Stiles and Allison this very moment._ I had been the cause of enough deaths, I wasn't about to raise my body count now.

A glimmer caught my eye as the moon reflected off of the small metal toaster, plugged in on the counter. I quickly unplugged it, glancing in it to see if my reflection was still there, hoping by some miracle that this would be a dream. No. I wasn't that lucky. My eyes, my brown eyes, stared back at me. This was reality.

I clutched the toaster to my chest, taking a different hallway in hopes of it leading me back to the foyer while still making sure Isaac couldn't sneak up behind me. I kept my back to the wall as I peered around the corner, Stiles still on the floor in front of Isaac, his lip split open. He saw me and I raised a finger to my lips, silently shushing him. The fear in his eyes sent me into a quiet panic as I squeezed my eyes shut and counted to three, knowing that this may be my only shot. Isaac seemed to be busy snarling at Stiles, something about how he couldn't wait to kill Lydia, especially after she had rejected him freshman year.

"So, as far as monsters go?" I cleared my throat behind him, and though I couldn't see it, it was as if I could feel the annoyed expression on his face. "I think it's still me." He began to turn and I raised the toaster above my head, slamming it down with as much force as a 5'4" teenage girl could muster up. He dropped to the ground like his body was full of lead, and Stiles sat there staring at me with wide eyes, his mouth gaping open.

"You…that was…you just…" he stuttered, his arms flailing wildly around him.

"What?" I shrugged, offering him a hand up. "I couldn't find the frying pans."

"Okay, I've seen some pretty badass things, but that, that right there is up there on the list." I laughed, making my way back over towards the door.

"Thanks Stiles. But where's Allison?" I spun in a circle, trying to inspect the floor for the possibly-unconscious brunette, coming up empty handed.

"You just hit him with a _toaster_-!"

"Stiles!" I reprimanded, extending my arms on either side of me. "Where's Allison?"

"Oh she went upstairs to check on-"

"STILES! IT'S HERE!" Allison's voice traveled down the staircase, and Stiles shot me a nervous look.

"Stiles." I said calmly, taking a step towards him. "_What_ is here?"

"Uhh…well…I uh…"

"Stiles! Do not make me go and _find_ the frying pans." I threatened, jabbing a finger into his chest.

"Ah okay, right. Um well. So your buddy Isaac here, yeah he's a…werewolf?" he finished, squinting one eye in a semi wince.

"A…werewolf?" I said slowly, my eyes traveling from Stiles's face to Isaac's body, lying unconscious on the ground.

"Yeeeahhh…Erica, Boyd and Derek too. Hence the uh, leather jacket club." Stiles mimed putting on a jacket and popping his collar to which I raised an eyebrow.

"And uh-" The door burst open and I jumped back, spinning around and smacking Stiles in the arm. Scott stood facing us, yellow eyes burning. I looked over to Stiles who laughed nervously. "Heh, and uh…Scott too." He scratched at the back of his head, as Scott looked at me panicked.

"You told her?"

"Dude she just freaking _bludgeoned_ Isaac with a _toaster_ after he tried to _eat me_, what was I supposed to do?!"

"Werewolves." I repeated, nodding to myself.

"Did you tell her about the kanima?" Scott asked, picking up the toaster on the floor by his feet. Stiles threw his head back in exasperation, rolling his eyes.

"No, but _you_ just did."

"Okay, okay werewolves I get. What the fuck is a kanima?"

"You dented it." Scott turned the toaster over in his hands, looking up at me with a mixture of disappointment and…pride?

"I'm sorry, I'll buy you a new one. Now can we focus people? _What is a kanima_?"

"You know, you're handling the whole _werewolf_ _thing_ surprisingly well." Stiles made a face, nodding at me, then at Scott.

"Believe it or not, I've seen stranger." I neglected to mention that the stranger things were usually hallucinations or dreams, but ever since that day in the lake, my belief in the supernatural had increased tenfold. "Now will you two please tell me what's going on? It's not like I can go tell anyone. The only person I talk to is Lydia." The two of them shared a look, before Scott turned back to me.

"Exactly."

"Guys," Allison interrupted, standing at the top of the stairs, panting slightly. "Help me move Erica."

"Woah you shot her?" Stiles asked, disbelief coloring his voice.

"Um…not quite. Paralyzed is more like it." She smiled, clearly trying to hide her pride. I smiled back at her, vaguely impressed. I didn't know what she had done, but clearly it was inventive. And I could appreciate inventive ways of incapacitating someone. "Ryan," her eyes widened slightly, as she registered that I was standing there and could in fact hear what she was saying.

"She knows." Scott declared, with a small defeated/relieved sigh. "She uh," Scott looked from the toaster in his hands, to Isaac on the ground. "She toasted him!" he raised the toaster up, a small pleased smile on his face. Me and Stiles both slowly turned towards him, with narrowed eyes. I shut them and shook my head as Stiles held out his hand and took the toaster.

"Dude, just…no."

"So…Kanima? Anyone?"

"First things first. Erica. We'll explain everything later, I promise." Scott clasped his hands together as he started towards the stairs.

Ten minutes later, and he heaved the door open, tossing both Erica and Isaac outside onto the grass with ease. Werewolves had superhuman strength. Check.

He stepped onto the porch, followed by Allison and Stiles. I crept closer to the door, peeking outside with one eye.

Derek stood in the street and sighed, and I bit my lip, reminding myself to relax.

"I think I'm finally getting why you keep refusing me Scott. You're not an omega. You're already an alpha, of your own pack." His solemn expression turned into a grin, and he dipped his head to the side. "But you know you can't beat me."

"I can hold you off until the cops get here." Sirens blaired in the distance and on instinct I stepped out onto the porch, peering down the street.

"Ryan?" Derek's smile fell as I met his gaze, lifting my chin high. I wasn't going to be afraid of him anymore. _I wasn't going to be afraid of anything_. There was a hissing sound coming from above us, and I followed Scott, Allison and Stiles off the porch and onto the lawn, as a dark lizard like creature crawled over the roof. _Except maybe that_. It paused to turn its head and look at us, opening its mouth to screech and reveal several rows of razor sharp teeth. Scott jumped, an arm looping around Allison's waist.

"Kanima?" I asked, eyes tripling in size.

"Kanima." Stiles nodded, watching the creature scurry down the back of the house.

Derek looked down at Isaac and Erica, still lying helpless on the ground. "Get them out of here," he scoffed through clenched teeth to the large boy standing next to him with chocolate skin and matching eyes, who I presumed was Boyd.

There was the quiet sound of heels against flooring, and Lydia stomped out onto the porch, visibly fuming.

"Would someone please tell me what the _hell_ is going on." Her hands balled into fists at her sides as everyone stared at her in disbelief.

"I wish I knew." Was all I could say, as Scott glanced back over to the roof.

"It's Jackson," he muttered, turning to Allison to whisper something.

"What's Jackso-" Stiles clamped a hand over my mouth, before Allison hurried over to Lydia, taking her hand.

"Come on Lydia, I'll take you home." She began dragging her over towards one of the cars in the driveway, until Lydia pulled her arm back.

"And what about Ryan?" I knew it wasn't something that should have meant a lot, but to me, it did. I had been an outcast, completely alone and friendless for so long, that I had forgotten what it was like to have people care about you, care about your wellbeing, people who looked out for you. I smiled at Lydia, and she smiled back, slightly confused, probably as to why I was tearing up.

"I'll take her home." Stiles volunteered, using my shoulder as an armrest. I shot him a look and stepped to the side, as he went down, recovering not so gracefully. Lydia snickered, rolling her eyes.

"Normally I'd say to leave the poor girl alone, but it looks like she can handle herself."

"Oh trust me, she can." Scott smiled sheepishly at me, and I smiled back, waving Lydia off.

"Go on, go home. It's been a rough day." For the first time I noticed her tear stained cheeks, and thought back to Economics, her sobbing as she wrote SOMEONEHELPME backwards on the board. I thought about her numerous encounters today with Jackson, the look on her face anytime he spoke, as if her heart were still breaking as much as she was trying to be strong and hide it. "It's been a rough day." I repeated quietly, nodding. She climbed into the car with Allison as they sped away down the street, and I turned back to Scott and Stiles, noticing that Derek and his "wolf pack" were all gone.

Wolf pack. I glanced up at the moon, not quite full, but getting there. Full moons. Like my dream.

"Stiles." I called, staring intently at the ground where Isaac had previously been laying.

"Yeah?"

"Is your dad the sherrif?"

"Yep. Why?" I let out a breath I didn't know I'd been holding and shook my head. How did I…How had I…?

"No reason." It was another matter for another day. As for the rest of this day, however… "So," I started, walking over to the porch and sitting down on the top step. "Explanations are in order."

"Uh do you think we could maybe do this ano-" Stiles bit his lip, talking with his hands.

"Now."

"Don't mess with her Stiles. She'll shank you with a toaster." Scott sat down on the step below me, laughing as Stiles shook his head.

"Yeah, yeah laugh it up wolf boy, you're the one who has to explain to your mom why your toaster is dented." They were odd. So very odd. And understandably so seeing as one of them was part dog. But they had good hearts, and I found myself laughing not even at them, but with them. I wasn't sure if we were friends, but I wouldn't mind it if we were.

* * *

A/N: Okay! So! Finally! This chapter was a BITCH to write dear lord. It is SIGNIFICANTLY longer than my other ones, and that was kind of an accident. But hopefully you guys like it! Please let me know what you thought, what you liked, what you didn't like, I would loveee to hear your opinions!

As always thank you to anyone who favorited or followed this story, and a big thank you to BrittWitt16, emele807, BroadBeginnings, MessintheMirror, and LionHeartMisfit for your lovely reviews! Love you all!


	8. Jungle

Scott and Stiles took me home after giving me a crash course in supernatural activity in Beacon Hills, starting from when Scott first became a werewolf (bitten, not born), up until about an hour ago. They barely stopped the car for me as I got out, shouting something about going to find the kanima (who was apparently Jackson, though somehow the thought of him being a giant snake seemed fitting) at me through the window. I waved goodbye, telling them to be careful, though I doubt they heard it, tearing down the street as if their lives depended on it.

Well. Maybe their lives didn't depend on it. But the life of others certainly did. I turned my key in the door, trying to be quiet. It wasn't too late, but I hadn't talked to my parents all day, and I knew they weren't going to be happy.

"Ryan Marie!" My mother's voice echoed from atop the stairs and I instinctively cringed at the mention of my middle name. "Where the hell have you been?"

"I was making friends…" I said slowly, hoping that my mother's desperation for a normal daughter would win out over her anger.

"And just because you made friends you think that's an excuse not to call me and let me know where you've been?" She raised her eyebrows, doing that thing mothers do when they think they're right and no matter what you say you'll probably end up grounded for a month.

"I'm sorry, okay? I forgot. But I'm fine. See?" I spun in a circle, gesturing to myself with my hands. "Completely in one whole piece." My mother sighed angrily, shaking her head.

"How was your first day of school?" I set my bag down on the table as she passed me on her way into the kitchen. I followed, shrugging.

"Fine." I grabbed a mug from the cupboard, opening the top cabinet and grabbing a pouch of hot chocolate.

"Fine? That's it? What did you do?" My mother crossed her arms, leaning forward on the island in the middle of the kitchen. I reached for the kettle sitting on the stove, pouring the steaming water into my cup.

"I don't know." She made an aggravated sound, pushing herself up and taking the kettle from me.

"Well how did you make friends?"

"I don't know, they were friends of Lydia's." My mother nodded, even though she didn't really know much about Lydia aside from what I had told her on the phone last night.

"Well I'm glad you're making friends. See? I told you you'd be able to move on." She gave me a tight smile, smoothing down my hair. I ducked out of her reach, biting my lip. I knew she meant well, but she always said the wrong things at the wrong time.

"I'm going to my room." I heard her sigh behind me, but I didn't look back, climbing the stairs two at a time until I was in my somewhat small bedroom. Compared to Lydia's anyway. The walls were painted a periwinkle color, light and pastel like. My mother said it was supposed to help keep the light in my life. I had a full sized bed in the middle of the room, the white wood headboard pressed against the wall. A nightstand stood on each side, along with a matching desk pressed against one of the windows. Include the closet, dresser, bookcase and bay window, and you have my room in a nutshell.

I set my cup of hot chocolate on my desk as I dug out a pair of black leggings and a big baby blue button down shirt, trading my dress and sweater for the more comfortable combo. I grabbed a book from my bookshelf, tucking it under my arm and grabbing my hot chocolate, before trucking back down the stairs and outside onto the porch. We had a small bench outside with oversized cushions and a small table beside it. I set my mug down, sitting down on the bench and tucking my legs up to my chest before opening my book.

It was about a girl who had accidentally killed her boyfriend in a car crash, and after reading for about five minutes I had to put the book down, not wanting to finish it. I lifted the hot chocolate to my mouth, taking a generous sip before I heard laughter and a door slam.

"I'll call you later mom!" I turned towards the familiar voice, Danny strolling out of the door to the neighbor's house. He walked towards the car in his driveway, glancing up at me right as he was about to climb in. We made awkward eye contact and he broke out into a grin, waving at me. "Ryan!"

I lifted my mug in a half wave, smiling. "Hey." He wore a tight dark blue shirt and jeans, as he hopped over the invisible boundary between the houses.

"I didn't know you lived here." He smiled brightly at me, leaning against our porch railing.

"Oh well, you know. It's kind of a recent occurrence." I nodded glancing back at the house. He laughed, glancing at the book in my hands.

"_Lovely, Dark and Deep_?" he raised an eyebrow and I shrugged it off, smiling.

"You know you shouldn't judge a book by its cover." He rolled his eyes, looking me over for a minute, making me slightly uncomfortable. I shifted on the bench, clearing my throat.

"Well you look like you're adjusting to Beacon Hills nicely." He said, the sarcasm thick in his voice.

"Oh ha ha, god forbid a person read a book for pure entertainment purposes." I countered, mocking him.

"Hey, hey, I never said you can't read for fun. I know lots of people who read for fun. I read for fun!" He took the book from my hands, reading over the back of it. "But, wanna know what's even more fun? Going to a club." I inwardly cringed at the thought, visibly shrinking before him. "Aw come on, you don't go clubbing?"

"Not often." I stared at my hands, the dark nail polish chipping off already, despite Lydia's attempts to paint them the night before. The last time I had been to a club was with Casey. And it hadn't ended well for either of us.

"Bad experience?" Danny asked, reading my face. I nodded, taking another sip of my hot cocoa. "Well then let me help change that! Come on, it'll be fun! I could use a wingman." He nudged me with his elbow, winking and I squinted at him, confused.

"You want me…_a girl_," I clarified, gesturing to myself, "to help you pick up _more_ girls…?" I cocked my head to the side and a laugh erupted from his throat.

"I'm not going to the club to pick up _girls_." I stared at him for a moment with a blank expression, confusion clear on my face. "It's a gay club, Ryan." He chuckled, as I felt my cheeks burn red. I sat there watching this conversation crash and burn and I desperately tried to hide myself in the rubble.

"Oh." I said, my mouth forming a small 'o' shape. "I feel stupid now. I have horrible gaydar." I explained, scratching at the back of my head.

"It's okay," he laughed again, clearly more amused than offended, to which I was grateful. "To make it up to me you can come! Come on, I'm leaving now." He began backing away, walking backwards towards his car.

"I'm not even dressed to go clubbing!" I whined, anything to get me out of this.

"Are you gay?" He stopped suddenly, a small smile on his lips.

"No." I blinked at him, startled by his bluntness.

"Are you looking to change that?"

"…No?" I answered slowly, my brow furrowing.

"Then it doesn't matter what you look like." He shot me another smile, his voice suddenly serious. "You look fine anyway. Now come on." I groaned, grabbing my book and mug and trudging inside, hopping that my mother's strictness would actually come in handy for once. I wanted to have friends, and I knew I was in no position to turn down this offer when Danny was clearly making an effort. But clubs entailed more social interaction than I was ready for.

Not to mention bad things happen at clubs. Like kidnappings, and rapes, and almost-murders. I felt a shiver crawl up my spine, as I walked into the living room to find my parents watching tv. Sitting on two separate couches. No surprise there.

"Uh, hey guys. My friend Danny, he lives next door, wanted me to come out with him tonight, but if you want me to stay in that's cool too." I pulled my lips in, taking in their expressions.

"Not tonight, you have a lot of sleep to catch up on and not to mention schoolwork and-"

"I think she should go." My dad cut in, as my mother shot him a dirty look. "You've been doing so well with making friends, go on. Have a little fun. Just don't be back to late." He smiled at me and I gave him a tight smile back. Pulling on the ankle boots I had at the door and a leather jacket in attempts to spruce up my outfit a bit, I left the house, running over to Danny's idling car in front of my house.

"Took you long enough." He grinned, popping the door open. I climbed in with a heavy sigh, waving my hand towards the road before covering my face with it.

"I can't believe I'm doing this. Just go."

"Come on, I'll make sure you have fun." He squeezed my shoulder, before placing his hands back on either side of the steering wheel, navigating through town like a pro. I needed to invest in a map. Or at least a more reliable GPS.

It took about 20 minutes before we were actually inside the club, and let me tell you something, I had never been more upset about not being a gay male in my life. Attractive boys littered the dance floor, more than half of them shirtless. Men hung from ribbons strung to the ceiling along the outskirts of the room, a disco ball hanging low in the middle of it. I stood by the entrance pursing my lips, watching how the strobe lights danced across heads and bare chests and the small visible slivers of floor I could occasionally see, appearing and disappearing like waves across the dance floor.

"Come on!" Danny shouted by my ear, taking my hand and dragging me through the crowd to the bar. He ordered us two coke's, smiling at the bar tendered as he eyed me a little warily.

"Moral support." I explained in answer to his unasked question. "Not together." He nodded, handing us our drinks as I hopped up onto one of the bar stools. Danny leaned back against the bar, slowly sipping his own drink.

"You didn't look like you were in a good enough mood to be here on your own anyway." He laughed, and I smiled reluctantly, looking away.

"That obvious, huh?"

"Only a little." He laughed, offering me his hand. "I'm Ben." I took it, nodding back at him.

"I'm Ryan. This is Danny." I felt him stiffen beside me, quickly turning back around, his head down staring intently at his hands on his drink. "Hey, you good?" I nudged his arm quickly, bending my own head down to look at him.

"You're better off without him." Ben smiled encouragingly, and I looked over my shoulder to see a guy in a white cut off t-shirt smiling triumphantly at Danny, grinding his hips together with another man.

"Still doesn't feel good." Danny mumbled, his shoulders slumping. I put a reassuring hand on his shoulder, glancing over towards the bar tender for help. I was still new at the whole "looking out for others" thing.

"You know what _will_ feel good?" he offered, as Danny slowly met his gaze. "That guy." He pointed behind us to a very attractive shirtless man, eyeing Danny up and down as he sipped his drink. Danny looked at me apprehensively before I shoved him away from me and towards the dance floor with a roll of my eyes.

"Go." Danny didn't ask twice, smiling at me as he made his way over.

"Two beers!" I knew that voice.

"IDs?" Ben asked, turning towards his two new customers. I shook my head, leaning down to take another sip of my drink. They dug out their IDs from their wallets, slipping them across the bar. Ben took a second to look them over, before laughing and handing them back. "How about two coke's?"

"Rum and coke? Sure!" Stiles tried, in his best 'I'm-legal-give-me-alcohol-voice', which was actually a little sad. Ben's smiled dropped, and Stiles bit his lip rocking forward a few times in what I assumed was supposed to be a dance move? "Coke's fine actually. I'm driving anyway." Well I had to hand it to him, Stiles definitely knew how to make an awkward situation even more awkward.

"Your driving is scary enough when you're sober." I teased, as both boys leaned around the pillar dividing us, staring at me with a look in between confusion and horror.

"Wh-what are you doing here?!" Stiles hissed, pulling me by my arm over to them.

"Making friends…?" I tried, gesturing over my shoulder to where Danny was presumably dancing somewhere behind me with the mystery hunk.

"Making fri-? No! _No_!" He shook his head furiously, both hands going to his head. "You're trying to get yourself killed, that's what you're doing here!"

"If you already knew the answer, then why did you ask me?" I raised my eyebrows at him as he seethed.

"The sarcasm is reeeeeally getting old." He deadpanned as Scott choked out a laugh.

"What's the matter Stiles, can't take what you dish out?" I smiled, reaching across the bar to grab my drink.

"Okay, dude, so unnecessary."

"So what are _you_ guys doing here?" I cocked my head to the side, raising my cup to my mouth. "I thought you were hot and heavy with Allison," I pointed to Scott, as his mouth dropped open and his eyes tripled in size. "And I thought you were in love with Lydia?" I pointed at Stiles, cocking an eyebrow.

"Wh-wh-what? Where did you hear that? Who said that? That's-that's not…entirely..accurate." I popped my lips together, nodding at him with narrowed eyes.

"You're a terrible liar."

"We're here for Jackson." Scott said in a hushed voice, glancing around the room. "He snuck in here. I think he's after Danny."

"What? I came here with Danny." I sputtered, glancing around the dance floor in alarm.

"I didn't know we were at that level yet, ya know, when we tell each other who we like." Stiles continued, gesturing between the two of us as if he had lost control of his hands. I closed one eye, scrunching up my face.

"I…I _did_ save your life."

"Yes. Yes you did." He sighed defeated, his hands falling limp at his sides. "And I have a feeling I'm not going to forget it anytime soon, am I?" I grinned, shaking my head. "Awesome."

"That one's paid for." A shirtless bar tender with blonde hair set down the drinks, motioning to Scott's, as he turned behind him to glance at the young gentleman in a striped tank top, who watching Scott like a hawk. He lifted his beer towards us, a smile on his face. Scott couldn't help but smile, as Stiles took his drink bitterly.

"Aw shut up."

"I didn't say anything." Scott crowed, still smiling.

"Yeah, well your face did." Stiles countered, sounding very much like an angry 4 year old. I let out an amused laugh, going back to searching through the crowd for Danny. I heard Stiles drop his cup onto the bar, all business again. "Hey, I found Danny."

"I found Jackson." One look at Scott's face, and the color had completely drained from my own. The seriousness to his tone instantly reminded me how very real this all was, and how very dangerous as well. Stiles and I followed Scott's gaze to the ceiling, where the very dark and reptilian monster clung, setting his sights below him. "Get Danny."

"What are you gonna do?" Stiles mumbled, but I was already gone, pushing my way through writhing bodies.

"Danny!" I heard Stiles call out behind me, as I strained my neck to find him once again in the crowd. I spotted Danny just a few feet away, and pushed my way towards him, barreling into him and knocking the breath out of me.

"Woah, hey!" Danny caught my arm, steadying me as his dance partnered looked me over, confusion flushing his already clammy face.

"Danny, we have to go." I urged, pulling him backwards with me. He held his ground though, laughing a bit.

"Hey, where's the fire? What's wrong?" the room began to fill with smoke as they triggered the fog machine, and I tugged even harder on his arm.

"Danny, let's _go_." I heard the hissing, and felt my heart rate pick up, glancing around me in a panic. I heard a thud, and then another, bodies falling to the floor in a paralytic shock. "Danny!" I screamed, jumping towards him as I saw a scaled arm reach for him. I felt a prick on my neck, a sharp pain shooting through me, then a shiver, before I felt nothing. I fell to the ground, frozen. No matter how much I tried to move my arms or my legs, or even just wiggle my body in a sad interpretation of the worm, it was futile. Danny fell beside me and I let out a string of every profanity I had ever heard in my entire life.

"Jackson!" Scott's voice was far away and muted, but I heard it nonetheless. Jackson was making his way towards Danny and I saw his face close up, unable to stop the gasp from leaving my mouth. He paused, temporarily disinterested in Danny, to study me, cocking his head to the side. Jackson barely knew me, and I barely knew him, but it was clear that whenever he was this kanima thing, he was unaware of it. Danny was his best friend, and as cold hearted as I thought he was, I knew he'd never hurt him. The knot in my stomach tightened, realizing that if Jackson wasn't aware that that was Danny, he _could_ really hurt him.

"No," I choked out in a whisper, letting my eyelids fall. I heard a loud roar, and peeled them open again, my body shooting up in shock. I saw Derek slash Jackson's throat, and he scampered away, leaving a trail of a black fluid behind. I stared down at my hands, studying them, before trying to stand up. To my surprise, I could. Completely. Without any problems. I took a few steps, making sure everything was working the way it should, and took off to the bar, jumping over the counter and finding the phone. My fingers shook as I entered the buttons, people scattering across the dance floor screaming.

"Hello, 911, please state your emergency." I heard a calm voice answer on the other side of the phone.

"Hi, yes," I started, my voice as shaky as my hands. "We need an ambulance. Actually we need like six ambulances. A bunch of kids, they can't move." I gushed, panic taking over my actions. I couldn't think straight, couldn't get my words together. What was I supposed to say? How did someone make a 911 call?

"Okay miss, calm down. Where are you?"

"Uhh, a club, a club called…" I shut my eyes, desperately trying to remember the name of the place. "Jungle. It's called Jungle. It's towards the outskirts of Beacon Hills?" I tried, hoping it would be enough.

"Okay ma'am, a unit has been dispatched, they should be there shortly."

"Thank you!" I breathed, slamming the phone back down onto the receiver.

"Hey! What are you doing back here?" the shirtless bar tender from before shouted, making his way through the crowd over to me.

"Called the cops! Leaving now!" I shouted over my shoulder, jumping back over the counter and heading for the back exit.

"Scott?" I called, walking around the parking lot aimelessly.

"Shh, over here!" I heard a voice call back. I ran over to where him and Stiles had a very naked and very human Jackson lying on the ground, Stiles's sweatshirt thrown over his private region. "We gotta get him into the jeep. C'mon." Stiles tossed me his keys, as the two of them heaved Jackson up, quickly shuffling over to the blue jeep. I unlocked the car, opening the backseat doors as they maneuvered Jackson into it, trading Stiles's sweatshirt for a blanket.

"I'm gonna go check on Danny. You two stay here, keep an eye on him." Scott explained, rushing over to the club entrance, where the ambulances were arriving. I let out a breath of air, my hands knotting my hair up into a twisted bun over and over again, a habit I'd had since I was little.

"Shit," Stiles muttered, sinking down in the driver's seat, as cop car after cop car pulled in.

"What?" I asked, glancing from Stiles to the cop cars.

"If anyone sees me I'm toast. I don't know how they're here so quickly." I drew my eyebrows together, staring at him, my hands holding my hair atop my head for the moment.

"Well usually when you call 911, their job is to get there as fast as possible…"

"Yeah, I'm aware of that, thank you, what I meant was I don't know who called them so quickly. I figured we'd at least have a solid ten minutes to split."

"I did."

"I'm sorry, what?" He asked, turning his head towards me.

"I called them."

"…you. You called 911?" He said slowly, drawing his lips in as if he were processing the information. "Why?! Why would you do that!?" he shouted, his arms extending toward me. For a brief second I wondered if he was going to strangle me.

"Well what was I supposed to do?!"

"Wait until we _left_! Hey wait, what's on your neck?" he asked as I let my hair fall back down in a sheet against my back.

"What?" I asked, pushing it out of the way. Stiles trailed his fingers along the base of my neck and I winced, feeling sore. He drew his fingers back, lightly stained red.

"Did Jackson cut you?" he asked dumbfounded as I nodded. "But then…how…?" The passenger door opened, and I scooted over as Scott climbed in.

"I couldn't get anything out of Danny." He sighed, shaking his head. "I told him Stiles and I were taking you home though." He turned towards me and I nodded.

"Okay, can we just get the hell out of here now before one of my dad's deputies sees me?" Stiles shook his head, focusing back on the task at hand as he turned the key in the ignition. Jackson sighed from the backseat and I glanced over at him, making sure everything was okay as flashing lights danced along the interior of the car. A loud siren sounded, and Stiles froze, his hands raising as the cop car pulled up directly in front of us.

"Oh, ooh my god! Oh my god! Could this get any worse?!" Stiles exclaimed, looking towards me and Scott, his voice rising an octave. A low groan erupted from the backseat as Jackson stirred, and Stiles spun around, completely exasperated. "THAT WAS RHETORICAL." He turned back towards me and Scott, taking a deep breath, his lips pulled tight.

"What, is that your dad?" I asked, motioning towards the car in front of us.

"Get rid of him!" Scott leaned forward, gulping.

"_Get rid of him_? We're at a crime scene and he's the Sheriff!" Stiles leaned forward in his seat as well, and I sunk back, watching them argue above me.

"Thaaat's your dad." I muttered, answering myself.

"Do something!" Scott flailed his arms around, narrowly avoiding smacking me in the face. Stiles flailed even more, whining before throwing open his door and jumping out of the car. I slid over into the driver's seat, cautiously throwing another look over at Jackson. He began to sit up, mumbling things in a low, groggy voice.

"Scott…" I warned, my eyes doubling in size as Scott turned towards the back.

"Jackson, Jackson be quiet." Scott urged in a whisper, pushing him back down onto the seat.

"What are you doing here?" Stiles's father spoke with a quiet authority, crossing his arms as he interrogated his son.

"What do you mean what am I doing here? What, it's a club! It's a club, we were clubbing. Ya know? At the club." I groaned, letting my head fall onto the steering wheel. Lord help us all. Beside me, Scott began to chew on his fingernails.

"Not exactly your type of club." The Sheriff glanced behind him, before turning back to Stiles, eyes narrowed.

"Uh…Well, dad. There's a, conversation that was need t-"

"You're not gay."

"Wh-I could be!" Stiles defended, looking extremely offended.

"Not dressed like that." The Sheriff eyed him over shaking his head, as Stiles looked down, observing his outfit. I pressed a hand to my mouth to muffle my laugh.

"What's-" Stiles started, as his father took a step towards the jeep and me and Scott froze in our places. Stiles lunged for his father, sputtering for words. Jackson began to sit up again behind us, grumbling some more.

"Jackson, be quiet!" he pleaded, and Jackson fell back down onto the seat.

"This is the second crime scene that you just happened to have shown up on. And at this point I've been fed so many lies, I'm not sure I know the kid standing in front of me, now what the hell is going on?" The Sheriff's voice rose, until the two of them stood before us, father scolding son. Stiles's mouth opened a closed a few times, as he tried to find something, anything to say.

"What, what's happening…?" Jackson sat up, and I shot Scott a nervous look.

"Uh, Jackson, I'm sorry but…" He pulled his fist back, releasing it so it made contact with Jackson's jaw. He fell back down, unconscious, and I let out a sigh of relief. I turned to look back out the windshield as Stiles and the Sheriff stared back at us.

"Dad, I just-"

"The truth, Stiles!" He yelled, and I felt my heart constrict. Watching this was torturous enough, but hearing how hurt the Sheriff sounded, accompanied with the look in Stiles's eyes?

"Be right back," I whispered to Scott, opening the door and sliding out. The Sheriff looked towards me, and I began breathing heavier, reaching out an arm towards them. "Sheriff…?"

"Ryan what are you-" Stiles started, taking a step towards me.

"I don't…where is…" I started, closing my eyes and picturing her face. All of their faces. After everything. Casey. Her family. Our friends. At the funeral. And I did something I hadn't done in public for the longest time.

I cried. I let the sobs come, racking through my body so violently it brought me to the ground. Stiles and the Sheriff both lunged for me at the same time, each of them holding me up on one side.

"Make it stop. Make them stop!" I whined, as the Sheriff shushed me, smoothing my hair back in attempts to calm me down.

"Hey, hey, it's okay. It's okay, you're safe. It's okay." After a few minutes I quieted down, as Stiles introduced me. I heard him whisper the part I was hoping he would, that I suffered from PTSD. I kind of hated myself, for using such a terrible illness like this, but I figured after all it had put me through, it deserved to be abused. Stiles talked to his dad while I sat on the hood of the cop car, the Sheriff's jacket across my shoulders, as Stiles explained that we were there to support Danny. Which wasn't a _complete_ lie, since that _is_ actually why _I_ was there.

"Alright, uh, I'm gonna go and uh, take Ryan home." I heard Stiles babble, making his way over to me. I shrugged out of the police jacket, handing it back to the Sheriff.

"Thanks so much. I'm really sorry about all of this." I looked down sheepishly and he put a comforting hand on my shoulder.

"Hey, don't even worry about, okay Ryan? If you need anything, just go ahead and ask Stiles. We'd like to help out in any way we can." I gave him a warm smile and thanked him again before Stiles ushered me back towards the Jeep.

"That…that was…" Stiles started as I turned the key in the ignition for him.

"That's what you did the other day in class. For Lydia." Scott said, sounding newly enlighted.

"Correct." I nodded, fiddling with my hands in my lap.

"What? You mean you just…you just faked it? So people would stop talking about Lydia?" Stiles pulled out of the lot and hit the road, gunning it.

"Yes, yes that is what I did now are you _trying_ to get a speeding ticket or is that just gonna be an added bonus…?" I asked, bracing my arms on the dashboard.

"You know, I'm just gonna start ignoring all of your sarcastic comments, and instead I'm going to pretend they were nice little compliments. So thank you Ryan, I really appreciate that." Stiles answered somewhat hostile.

"Guys, focus! We need to think of what the hell we're gonna do with Jackson!"

"Uhhh, what about your house?"

"…Not with my mom there!" Scott's voice actually cracked, and I again glanced behind me to make sure Jackson was still passed out, Stiles's aggravated sigh making me jump. "We need to take him somewhere where we can hold him long enough to figure out what to do with him! Or long enough to convince him he's dangerous."

"_Thaaat's_ gonna happen." Scott shot me a sideways glare and I smiled at him politely. "Sorry."

"…I still say we just kill him." Stiles winced beside me, trying out the option.

"We're _not_ killing him!" Scott maintained immediately, causing Stiles to let out a frustrated groan.

"Okay, okay." I kept my eyes on the road, as both boys sat beside me, equally exasperated. "I got an idea!"

"Does it involve breaking the law?" Scott asked hopefully.

"By now don't you think that's a given?"

"I was just trying to be _optimistic_."

"Don't bother."

"WELL, it has been lovely seeing you two again, butttt if you would be so kind as to drop me off at my house before you go and start your illegal shenanigans, it would be much appreciated. One murder is all I can afford in one lifetime, I don't need to be a convicted felon too." It slipped out before I could stop it, and I feel my breath catch in my throat, the tension in the car becoming visible.

"A MURDER?!" Stiles shouted, swerving the car. "WHO DID YOU _MURDER_?"

"Stiles, calm down! A minute ago you suggested killing Jackson, you're really in no position to criticize!" Scott shouted, reaching to turn the steering wheel straight again.

"It wasn't like that! Just relax! Christ!" I breathed, as Stiles got the car back under control. "I was the cause of someone else's death okay? I didn't mean murder literally." Why had I said that? What did I think that would accomplish?

"Well you should probably SPECIFY NEXT TIME BECAUSE PEOPLE TEND TO TAKE THAT LITERALLY." Stiles shouted, glancing sideways at me. He must have noticed my sudden paleness and the look on my face though, because he slowed down, and sighed. "Hey, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to yell at you."

"No, it was my fault. I brought it up in the first place." I shook my head. Why had I even brought it up? My emotions were on a rollercoaster. Too much had happened within the past 24 hours. How was I supposed to cope with it all? I wasn't even sure how a normal person would cope with it, never mind _me_.

"Hey." Scott caught my hand, smiling at me. "It's okay." I looked down, back at my lap and he gave my hand a squeeze. "You're a good person Ryan. A really good person." I gave a half-hearted smile, looking back up at him.

"Thanks." Stiles pulled up in front of my house, giving me a nod and a tight smile.

"What Scott said." I gave a small laugh, climbing out of the jeep.

"Thanks guys. I'll see you later I guess."

"Hey, wait!" Scott grabbed my arm as I turned towards my house, halting me. "Give me your phone." I obliged, digging it out of my jacket pocket and handing it over. He took a minute punching in a few numbers and handed it back. "There. Now you have my number, Stiles's number, and Allison's number. If anything goes wrong, and I mean anything, give us a call, okay?" I nodded, shoving the phone back into my pocket, my words absent for the time being.

"I know it sucks getting dragged into this and all," Stiles started, glancing out the windshield before looking back at me. "But you're in it. And clearly you are more than capable of taking care of yourself." He held his hands up as if I had him at gunpoint and I choked out a laugh, looking down sheepishly. "But you're not alone in this." He finished softly.

"We've got your back, okay?" Scott added, and I felt myself tearing up. I wiped at my eyes before anything could fall, giving a small sniffle and backing away.

"Don't get all sappy on me guys. I'll see you later." I shot them my biggest smile, in hopes of convincing them I was okay. And I guess I was, really. I had friends again, people who cared about me, were going to look out for me. It felt nice.

But why did I feel so guilty? I went straight to my room, kicking off my shoes and jacket and falling face first on my bed. I fell asleep in minutes, welcoming the blackness washing over me like an old friend.

Her laughter filled the blank void around me, and I cringed away, clamping my hands over my ears in an effort to block out the sound. The laughter ceased, but was replaced by her voice, strong and clear.

"You're moving on without me."

"No, no I would never-"

"You are Ryan. I'm dead and you're not and you're moving on without me." It was her voice, but I felt as if what she was actually saying, and what she was trying to say were two separate things, two strands of the same string, pulling in opposite directions. I felt a cold come over me, and I blinked, suddenly back in the lake. I couldn't stop shivering, forcing my eyes open as they burned against the water.

I saw Casey dive in, and I screamed for her to stop, to swim back up, to save herself. But my screams died in my throat, swallowed up by the raging water. My skin began to burn, as if my veins had been set on fire. I briefly wondered if this was what it was like to drown, a mind numbing icy cold, followed by an obliterating heat. Like when you get so cold you start to feel hot. Smoke and bubbles surrounded my like a cloud, and my hands began glowing, like a nightlight in the dark. Casey reached me finally, grabbing my arm to pull me up. But as soon as touched my skin, it all fell away, and I blacked out, screaming.

I awoke to my father shaking me awake, my screams filling the air. My mother stood at the door, a pained look on her face. I blinked the tears and the sleep away, processing my surroundings. I was shaking, still cold, and I reached for a tissue on my nightstand.

"Do you want to stay home tomorrow?" my mother asked, leaning against the door frame. I nodded numbly, as my father rubbed soothing circles on my back. "Okay. Go back to sleep. Get some rest." They both left my room silently and I laid back down, willing an emptiness to come over me. It never came though, and I threw the covers off of me bitterly, stalking over to my laptop on my desk and punching the power button on.

The clock next to my bed read 3:56am, and I inwardly groaned, rubbing my eyes and wishing I could just sleep through the night. But since I couldn't, I might as well be productive. I read every article I could find on werewolves, and even spent a bit of time researching kanimas, with very limited results. I read and read until I eventually read myself to sleep.

I woke up with one tear stained cheek against the keyboard of my laptop, my back hunched over my desk in a way that wasn't uncomfortable until I decided to try and sit up. I quickly dabbed at my eyes, tears still welling up in them, and stretched upward, making my way over to the bathroom. My eyelashes stuck together with tears, and I blew my nose, noticing how flushed my face was. I grabbed my brush off of the counter, trying to pull it through my half damp hair, wondering how much I had cried in my sleep. I couldn't even remember what I had dreamed about this time.

My bare feet padded across the polished tiles, to the warm carpet of my room as I sat down on my bed, staring at the walls. These walls. I had only lived in them for a few weeks now and they had already seen so many tears. It was like this house bred anxiety, and I suddenly felt heavy, my head aching and my chest heaving, longing for something I could not give it. I wish I could blame the house.

But I knew it wasn't the house that made me anxious. It was me. I felt this way in every house. With a deep breath I threw my closet doors open, making a decision. I had no idea why I felt like this was something I should do, but the urge was there and I wasn't about to pass up an excuse to get out of the house and possibly outrun my memories.

I grabbed my gray New York t-shirt and a pair of high waisted shorts, pulling them on over my sheer black tights. I fished out my oversized cream cardigan from the depths of my closet, along with my combat boots, lacing them up and grabbing my purse. I quickly threw my hair into a messy bun, too lazy to do anything else to it. Besides, no one was going to see me where I was headed anyway. I grabbed the notepad on the table by the door, scribbling a quick note to my parents as to where I was, before opening the door and slamming it shut behind me.

The walk was quicker than I thought it would be, gravel and dirt crunching under my feet. The Beacon Hills Preserve, home of supernatural beginnings. I wandered through the forest, feeling particularly small beside the towering trees. In a way, I liked it. I felt less like the world was balancing on my shoulders, and more like I was balancing on the world. Both were tricky though. Balancing the world on your shoulders is tough, tiring. At any given moment the world could fall, and you would be responsible for it. But balancing on the world, that was a different ballgame. You were responsible for yourself and only yourself. And that was how I liked it.

It was a double standard and I knew it. I loved having other people to rely on, to help me and look out for me, but I hated having other people rely on me. I just felt like there was no way I could live up to their expectations. Like I would inevitably just let everybody down. I began kicking up leaves, hearing them crunch under my boots to quell my thoughts. I kept walking until I found what I was looking for, and again it was much easier than I anticipated.

The Hale House.

I stood staring at the massive house in ruins, feeling a strange urge to go inside. I let my fingers trail along the rotting wood of the porch base, the railing completely obliterated, feeling slightly comforted by the state it was in. It was broken, damaged, just like myself. Flickers of images crossed my mind, of the house up in flames, and I briefly wondered what it would have been like to burn alive rather than drown.

It seemed much more painful, but maybe the flames would have done what the water did not. Then again, thinking of Derek's uncle Peter that Scott had told me about, maybe not. Maybe I would have been worse off. The thought still plagued my mind, of how had I survived. I had been under the water much too long, and why had Casey been covered in blood if she had simply drowned saving me? How did she save me but drown herself? There were so many questions I didn't have the answer to and they haunted me at all times. I wondered briefly if my nightmare had actually been the truth, a flashback as opposed to a dream.

To be honest, I couldn't even remember all of the details of the whole thing. The doctor's said it was a side effect of the PTSD, but none of it made sense to me. It was like I could hear what they told me, but I couldn't process anything. I heard the crunching of leaves and I spun around, startled, as a crow hopped along the ground at the base of a tree a few feet away.

I let out a breath, trying to relax myself. _You didn't come here to think about Casey. You came here to escape it_. I went back to studying the house, debating on whether or not I had the guts to go inside. _What do you have to lose really?_ I took a step forward, and that was when I heard him clear his throat.

Derek stood off to the side, arms folded across his chest, studying me with a cautious expression, like he thought I might lunge at him and attempt to bite him. I backed up against the column of the porch, trying to repress the fear I wasn't supposed to be experiencing. _No. Don't let him scare you._

"What are you doing here?" I choked out, clearing my throat immediately afterwards and mentally scolding myself. He raised an eyebrow, looking at the house behind me.

"Well, this _is_ my house."

"Scott said you didn't live here anymore," I countered, my voice stronger and steadier.

"That doesn't change the fact that it's _my_ house." He took a few steps towards me and I instinctively tried to back up, climbing the three stairs to the porch. He sighed, looking down at his feet. "Can you just…promise not to freak out?"

"Depends. Am I next on your hit list?" I swung myself around the thin column, peering at him from the other side of it. I felt confident and relaxed, and I smiled at him, though it was meant for myself. The truth is I was proud. It wasn't a glorious act of defiance, but I was holding my ground even though I knew my body would have been one hundred percent on board with running as fast as I could in the opposite direction.

In terms of fight or flight, I had always opted for flight. But I was tired of running. And people actually needed me for once. Lydia needed me. And I wasn't going to abandon her. I would right all of the wrongs in my life. Starting with this. Derek rolled his eyes, moving closer to me, so that he was about a foot away.

"No. I just want to talk." With my added height from the porch, I actually had a few inches on him. I cocked an eyebrow, bending down so we were eye level.

"Then why did you bring back up?" I whispered, glancing at the dense forest behind him. I didn't know how, but I knew he was there.

"Just a note, werewolves have superhuman hearing. So, the whole whispering thing…" Isaac stepped out from behind the trees, approaching us with a wave of his arm. "Kind of pointless."

"I liked you a lot better when you were unconscious on the floor."

"Oh I'll bet." I narrowed my eyes at him as Derek let out a snarl. I flinched, but recovered quick enough.

"Enough. Isaac came on his own behalf. No matter how many times I said I'd rather go alone." Derek clenched his teeth, rubbing his temple with one hand. A laugh escaped my lips and he looked up, giving me an annoyed glare.

"Sorry. But that's what you get for turning a bunch of teenagers."

"I see Scott filled you in on some things."

"Scott filled me in on _every_thing." I held a hand up, clarifying. I sat down against the edge of the porch, kicking my legs idly in front of me.

"Great." He seethed, clearly displeased.

"Well Scott wouldn't have needed to fill me in if your little guard dogs hadn't barged in and tried to kill everyone."

"Excuse me, we were just trying to kill _one_ person. And anyone who got in our way." Isaac grumbled behind Derek, locking his jaw in annoyance.

"So, everyone." I nodded, my eyes widening at him.

"Careful Derek. Better make sure there aren't any portable kitchen appliances within the vicinity." He sneered, as I grinned, blowing him a kiss. Derek sighed heavily, rolling his eyes with a flare of drama I didn't know he had in him.

"Isaac, in the house." Derek jabbed a finger towards the door as Isaac stood there, looking very much offended.

"Wh-what? What am I supposed to do in th-"

"_In the house_." Derek gave him a glare, and he reluctantly marched inside. "Anyway," he turned back to me, still slightly hostile, but seeming more open to discussion. This was his decision to talk to me anyway. "So you know about werewolves."

I nodded, pushing myself back until my back was against the wooden post, my lips stretched into a tight line. My rush of confidence and bravery had faded, and the more he spoke, the more I wanted him to go away, leave me alone with the thoughts threatening to burn me down to the ground. I was a wildfire, and there was no controlling me. I couldn't even control myself.

"How have you been Ryan?" he asked, snapping me out of my thoughts. My head shot up a bit suddenly, surprised by his question. My confusion read across on my face, as he amended himself. "Have the hallucin-?"

"I'm fine." I replied quickly, cutting him off with a glance back towards the door of the house. I didn't need Isaac to have more ammunition than he already did. The less he knew, the better. Derek's brow furrowed, eyeing me suspiciously.

"Really? Because that's not what I've been hearing."

"Well I haven't gotten worse, if that's what you're implying." I spat, my voice thick with as much venom as I could spit out. I narrowed my eyes at him, anger welling up inside my chest. I didn't like it when the shrinks my parents sent me to did this, I definitely wasn't taking it from _him_.

"But you're still-"

"_What_ do you want Derek?" My voice held a frustrated edge that I couldn't quite get rid of, no matter how much I tried to calm myself.

"I want to help." He said, equally as frustrated, maybe a bit more annoyed. "Help you."

I actually laughed at that one, though I lost the edge in my voice. "I don't need another psychologist Derek." My voice was softer than I expected, and he looked at me with pained eyes, like I was someone he once knew, now eternally damaged. My thoughts and emotions were raging, and I had never felt more bipolar, angry one minute, calm and collected the next. Who knew, maybe I had recently developed bipolar disorder. Psychiatrists would have a field day with me.

"What if I told you I might know a way to make you better?" He looked almost uncomfortable, staring at his feet for a minute before meeting my eyes.

"What, you mean like a cure?" I raised an eyebrow, slowly shaking my head. "Derek there is no cure. It's not curable."

"This isn't exactly a conventional cure. And it'd be a shot in the dark. But there's an 85% chance that it'll work."

"There was an 85% chance that Casey would have survived too but we both know how that story ended." My voice is cold, distant. Just like that. I feel myself tossing back and forth inside of myself, as if I'm rolling down a large hill, tumbling through my emotions as they come on. This is a dangerous slope I'm on.

"Ryan…" Derek sighed, his patience still there but wearing thin.

"Is this cure supernatural?" I asked, as it suddenly dawned on me. He said nothing, staring at my feet crossed in front of me. After a few moments of silence, he met my gaze again, and I locked my jaw, held my head high.

"The other day, at the school? I had…" he trailed off, trying not to sound annoyed. I was beginning to realize that was a difficult task for him. "I had come to offer you the bite."

"_Offer me the bite_?" I repeated, skeptically. It was like it was a new free sample they were having at the supermarket. _Hello ma'am, how are you doing today? Can I offer you the bite?_

"Isaac and Erica, they were supposed to be playing nice." Derek repeated, slightly louder than necessary, and I heard a muttered _I _was_ playing nice_ from inside the house. "As future pack members and all." He finished.

"But…why? Why me?"

"You're a force to be reckoned with Ryan. You may not see it yet, but I have. Casey had."

"You mean I'm dangerous?" I laughed, throwing my head back against the pillar, drawing a hand over my eyes.

"You are," Derek started, taking another step forward and leaning against the porch. "But not in the way that you think. I figured I owed it. To Casey. To look out for you." He stared at me through stubborn eyes, almost like he was reluctant to admit that someone might have meant a lot to him.

"How did you know Casey?" I asked softly, beginning to feel that dizzying feeling, like I might float away.

"I'm not sure you're-"

"How did you know her Derek?" I repeated, stronger, more insistent.

"I'm not sure you're ready for that conversation Ryan." He stared at me carefully, as if I might break apart at any second.

"What does that…what is that-supposed to mean?" I struggled to get the words out, as sparks of white light danced across my vision, the world spinning before me like a carousel.

"Isaac!" I heard him shout, as he leaned forward to catch me as I fell sideways, off of the porch and onto the ground. He was so close, but he sounded light years away, and he wasn't fast enough, as my body slammed into the ground. But I didn't stop there.

I went through, as if breaking the surface of water, falling down into oblivion. I landed with a thud onto a white hospital bed, the room smelling of antiseptic. I blinked and tubes were attached to both of my arms, and I let out a wail, screaming until a few nurses came running in.

"Take them out! Take them out!" I kicked and pleaded, tears streaming freely down my face until finally I was unhooked from my prison. "Where is she?" I demanded, and the nurses shot each other a severe look, a look that I knew meant 'don't tell her'. I jumped out of bed, barreling through them as they tried to stop me, hold me down. I kicked free of them, shrugging them off and managing to make it out into the hallway.

I saw Ava sitting outside the door a few rooms down, staring blankly at the wall, dried tears staining her face. She looked up at me, but it was as if she couldn't _see_ me. Like I was just another wall ornament. She made no sound, looking back down at her feet. I opened the door, her parents stood at the foot of her bed, her mother brandishing a tissue. Both of them sobbing, hysterically. Sobs so loud and weighed with more pain than I ever thought could be imaginable.

And there she was. Lying on the bed. Trails of blood from her mouth, drying on her neck. Blood caked around her fingernails, her hands. The heart monitor beeping in a way that said it was giving up.

"She was trying to save you, you know." Ava's voice was small and quiet, as I saw the last bits of life leave my best friend's body.

"This is all _your_ fault!" Her mother screeched, shaking her tissue at me as her husband ushered her back out into the hallway. More sobs.

"Why couldn't you have tried to save her?" Avery was only a few years younger than us, but she always just seemed so young, so little, so in need of protecting. And I had taken her protector away. Forever.

"I tried-I didn't mean to-"

"Derek, what did you do?" strong hands set me down, his voice sounding quietly angry, worried.

"I didn't do anything. She's have a hallucination. A flashback. I don't know how it works."

"How _what_ works?" I opened my eyes and sat up, their voices growing farther away. I was lying on a table inside the house, the only piece of furniture that still seemed intact.

"Post Traumatic Stress Disorder." I shut my eyes, feeling my heart sink. It was quiet outside, no one saying anything, until Derek broke the silence again. "Keep an eye on her. I'll be right back." I heard footsteps circling the house, growing closer and then farther away again, as I crept back towards the door, peeking my head out. Isaac stood in front of the house, pacing back and forth, one hand shoved in his pocket, the other on the back of his neck.

"So. Cat's out of the bag." I said, crossing the porch to sit down.

"So it's true?" Isaac's head whipped back, turning to me, his blue eyes full of questions and…concerns?

"I'm not crazy." I swallowed, feeling the lump in my throat choking me dry.

"But you do have PTSD." I said nothing, staring at him through wide eyes, unsure of what to say, how to make anything better. He ran a restless hand through his hair, letting out a gush of breath. He shook his head a few times, almost as if he was ashamed of himself. He sat down quietly next to me, pulling one knee up to his chest. "How'd it happen?"

"I thought you knew." I answered, my voice dead. I felt very far away, as if I was watching a movie of someone else's life, played out before me.

"No." he shook his head slowly after he spoke, staring straight ahead. "Derek only told me about Casey, how you two were friends. He never said much else." He looked at me through his lashes, and I turned towards him, acutely aware that I was staring, but unable to help myself. I felt so small sitting there next to him, looking up at him with doe eyes, ugly brown staring into a blue so deep I felt like I was drowning in them. He licked his lips and I quickly turned back to my knees, heaved up to my chest. I pulled my lips in, thinking of the best way I could answer him.

"I was a mess." I felt my voice shake, so I stopped, took a deep breath. Started again. "A time bomb, seconds away from detonation." I felt the tears welling up in my eyes, but I refused to let them fall. "She saved me. My life. And I couldn't do the same." There was a hollowness inside me, growing as the words fell from my lips. There were times when I felt all of the emotions at once, all of the pain and anguish. And then there were times where I felt nothing at all, like nothing more than a walking corpse. I couldn't tell you which I preferred more. Both of them made me wish I was an actual corpse. I knew that was the only way I could tell this story though. Without feeling.

"I was drowning. I had gone too far out into the lake. I still can't remember why. There was just something pulling me towards it, like I had no choice. I let myself sink. She jumped in after me, tried to save me. But I had been under so long and I-I-" I took another gulp of air, letting it out slowly through my nose. He sat there watching me, not saying a word, but listening so intently I thought he might be trying to read my mind, see inside my head.

Lots of people wanted to see inside my head after they found out what a horror show it was inside here. I didn't know why though. Most times I wished I could _stop_ seeing inside my head. "Something happened. I don't know what. I can't remember what. But she tried to pull me up and I blacked out. Woke up in the hospital and she was bloody and bloated and on her death bed. She died about three minutes later." I finished, staring down at my hands, half wishing the rest of the story would come to me, half wishing it would never come. I waited for the sneering, the jabs, the mocking.

"And you think you killed her?" was all he said. I turned to him slowly, surprised and baffled.

"If she had supposedly 'just drowned', like all of the cops and doctors said, then why was she so bloody?" I whispered, tilting my head to the side eyes narrowing. "I did something. I know I did. I just don't know what." The last part of my sentence came out as a strangled sob and I covered my mouth, turning away from him.

"Hey," he placed a hesitant hand on my shoulder, turning me back towards him. The chaos of my mind instantly quieted and I looked at him slightly confused. Was that another werewolfy power? I prepared myself for the barrage of 'it's okay' or 'everything's fine' or 'it's not your fault' that I had heard so many times before. And while it was comforting for a bit, it never stuck. Because I know that it was _not_ okay, everything was _not_ fine, and it was most definitely _my_ fault. "You're not a monster."

I blinked at him, taken off guard. That wasn't what people said. No one had ever said that. I stared at him for a long time, unable to speak, for once not because I couldn't find my voice, but because I just didn't know what to say. He stared back at me, his eyes darting all around my face, as opposed to just staying set on my eyes. Normally it would have made me uncomfortable, but instead I just felt a deep calm settling in my stomach, a kind of warm sensation you get when you're little and your parents tuck you in at night. I pressed my lips together, glancing at his hand sliding from my shoulder down my arm, and tried not to smile. Isaac glanced behind my head and cleared his throat, releasing my arm and standing up, as Derek approached, a Hershey's bar and a bottle of water in his hands.

"You passed out so…you don't want low blood sugar." He said, thrusting the candy bar and water bottle at me, his eyes to the ground. I felt my mouth turn up into a lopsided small smile, and I took them graciously.

"Thanks Derek." I opened the candy bar, breaking off a piece of chocolate and shoving it into my mouth. I offered him and Isaac a piece, to which they both declined.

"Are you feeling better?" He stood in front of me, hands clasped behind his back. I gave a small shrug, looking straight ahead before turning back to him.

"I've been worse." He nodded, getting back to business.

"So, about my offer." He wasn't one to beat around the bush, was he? I pursed my lips, glancing down. He really was just trying to help. Me anyway. But was I willing to do this? And everything it came with? What would Scott, Stiles, and Allison think? Would I technically be one of the bad guys?

"I'll think about it." I said, looking down, playing with my hands as if they somehow held the key to everything. Derek studied me a moment, before he drew his brows together.

"No you won't." I looked up at him curiously, Isaac mirroring my expression. "You don't want this Ryan, do you?" I looked back at Isaac, and his words rang in my head. _You're not a monster_. I shook my head.

"No." I said it slowly, like I was still working through my decision. His eyes glowed red (red eyes meant alpha, or at least that's what Scott had said) before he closed them, nodding.

"Alright. My offer still stands if you change your mind." I nodded as he turned around, motioning toward Isaac to follow. Isaac shot me one last glance, almost as if it were a recognition that what had just happened was something that was never to be spoken of again. He smirked at me, lightly chuckling before turning around and taking off after Derek.

* * *

**A/N: Helloooo! Okay, so I recently started my new semester of college, so it may take a bit longer to get my updates up, but I hope that their ever growing length will make up for that!**

**Also as a side note, I figured I'd throw this out there. While I don't have PTSD, I do suffer from severe anxiety, so writing Ryan comes pretty naturally to me, because I know how she's feeling. Panic attacks are tricky things, and there really is no one way to stop them aside from letting them run their course, or getting a person distracted enough to stop it before it really gets going. Just in case anyone was wondering why no one can really help her when she starts having one. :]**

**Once again thank you to all of my beautiful readers for favoriting and following the story, and thank you to Guest, BrittWitt16, Janedoee7, BriancyyD, artificial-paradises, Guest, kaljara, WhatsGoingOn, and LionHeartMisfit for your lovely reviews! Reading them make me so happy that people actually care about this little story, so thank you!**

**I hope you enjoy this next chapter! Let me know what you think!**


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